Do Make Say Think, Crofoot, Pontiac

is a band that seemingly wants to put its listeners to sleep, as their music builds over five to twelve minute tracks, slowly adding instruments, adding loops, adding oohs and aahs. If you need to study for a test or relax after a long day with a beer and a record, DMST is there for you, coddling your arms, and shaking softly through your jeans. Do not be fooled, if you planned on speaking to your mother (who you thought it would be cool to bring to the show because, really, aren’t these guys sleepy?) during the show, think again. The way plaid moved in Pontiac was a site to behold, backpacks hopping on shoulders, arms lashing over heads, skinny jeans rubbing against skinny jeans not because of danceable, ironic top 40s hits but because DMST was loud and hard.

The wonder of this group is not only in the way they facilitate the shaky, jumping jerk of suburban kids, but that they break apart into two other bands. Opening for themselves then smashing back together to form, like Voltron. The bands are as follows: Years, The Happiness Project, and DMST (which acted as the crescendo, pulsating and morphing the crowd into different patterns in sizes).

Watching a band break and reform their songs and music is a beautiful thing. Like walking through the winter’s first snow, watching the lamp light swing individual flakes up and around. But seeing a band break and form into similar, yet unique projects brings the awe of seeing something born when expected only a ticket to a movie. Listening to their three acts made each individual member (of who there were a total of nine) seem quirkier, and more important to the whole; it gave the crowd a glimpse into DMST’s creative processes as each member filled a void in one project or another.

DMST took standard stage breaks between each set (relishing in the idea that “a show” is different acts, and different ideas) and as they continually returned, it felt as though they tightened with each new movement, each new song. The stage was covered with people, two drum kits, keys, a violin, saxophone, trumpet, two guitars, and a bass. As the songs progressed going from slower to faster, back down a step, and back up three, DMST’s members switched instruments, like circus acts walking the tight wire then leaping off toward the flying trapeze. There was little preamble during their broody, hard, brash, clashing togetherness, until they let the crowd know ‘The Horn of Rabbits’ was next. Maybe the dancing wasn’t as mad as I’ve described, maybe it is only this song that made the show feel alive like so many crawling bugs below pant legs, but if you can say ape shit in an article, this is the time, people were convulsing as if they were thirteen year olds and Britney Spears had just tumbled onto stage with a boa constrictor.

For its two closing encores (of at least seven minutes a piece) DMST did not let the crowd down abruptly, ending on a fast, jarring track. Rather they followed their music down the rabbit hole to its logical, soft, dream awakening conclusion, reminding the crowd why they listen to DMST albums; to rest and relax.