Dan Coleron

Long before I understood symbolism, my mother made sure I developed an appreciation for sophisticated lyrics. As "The Bed's Too Big Without You" played during a drive, she informed her 7-year-old: "Other singers just hit you over the head with it, 'I love you; I miss you.' But The Police never say that. All they'll tell us is that the bed's too big."
Dan Coleron's latest, "Par Avion," is an exercise in such transcendence. The themes of his acoustic rock are ones we hear on the radio every day: loneliness, introspection, spirituality. But his messages are encapsulated via such inventive, touching language and in such inspired musical formats that a few listens can refine one's views of love and life.
Coleron is blessed with skillful plucking fingers, a fervent, seamless voice and a knack for penning original melodies. His poetry provokes reflection and emotion. He could have just given us that much.
But the fun of "Par Avion" lies in its embellishments: friendly fills wandering all over the fret board, the slide of Indian-sounding synthesizer, a chorus that evolves into a chant. A track nears its obvious conclusion, but you know by now to expect an Easter egg: a snippet from an apparent voice mail, the sounding of a gong, the pulsating drone of what sounds like a motor.
"Par Avion" is about newness: new solitude, a new city, new possessions, new independence. With that comes people and places left far behind. In "A Lonely Heart," Coleron states a simple truth: "It takes a long time to let go/ It doesn't matter what you know."
I suppose life's experiences have taught me that already, but we rely on our artists to give us proclamations imbued with meaning, phrases that far surpass "I love you; I miss you." All over "Par Avion," Dan Coleron has done so, and for that I thank him.

- Anchorage Daily News by Lillie Dremeaux

You could almost smell the natural talent as Dan Coleron took the U.A.A. recital hall stage on Valentines Day. He immediately made a joke pose for a photographer up in the balcony. He was one of twenty-four performers that evening, but he stood out from them all.
I had caught a snippet of his song while he was rehearsing back stage so I knew I was in for a treat. Nothing prepared me for his angelic stage presence. In yellow tinted glasses, which he says are for fun and coping with the winter blues, and a snug hat he spun the audience into a web of undulating crescendos. Notes that might stand still if they were in someone else’s song inadvertently ascended octaves and cascaded down the opposite side. In the spectrum of one serendipitous song we were led through the heart of the Serengeti and on to the banks of a riverside as he discovered “ …the will to survive…the sun is in my hands, the moon is in my eyes, the Earth my love.”
His fingers seem to bounce off the strings as he teases music from his guitar, and the jaunty playing causes a percussive effect. Although his mother, who is from Venezuela and played Spanish guitar at a young age, taught him his first chord when he was fifteen, he has only been playing regularly since he was eighteen. Now twenty-five, a Cancer on the cusp of Gemini (known as the cusp of magic, ah ha), he seems wise beyond his years. And it shows in his voice.
Experience flows through him in emotional lyrics and his vocals are like pools of honey glistening in sunlight. On his album “Bird Point”, released in ‘01, many of his songs transport the listener to another realm. In the somber and mood altering At Least, the listener walks through a forest wood and into the cratered moon. He belts out the chorus “At least, I have my release” in his traveling octave way, getting help from Annalisa Woodlee (formerly Tornfelt) on background harmonies.
Perhaps the best track on the album has the most unassuming title. The “Futon Song” smacks of every struggling songwriter’s tale. In the line, “and where am I, I’m sitting on top of a golden mine, I need to dig a little more through the grime…” you sense at once that he is indeed the gold mine, whether he meant it that way or not.
Every Sunday night Coleron hosts an open-mic at Snow City Café, and what a gracious host he is. He gives the impression that he is as comfortable greeting and chatting with the players as he might be if he were hosting a party in his own living room. To get the show started, he plays a song or two from his wealth of over sixty original tunes. He then casually introduces each performer and the loosely knit group of mostly regulars applauds cordially as each act takes the stage. Dan twiddles knobs to adjust the sound and then mingles with the audience members while they play. Occasionally, you will catch him darting zigzags through the crowd as a performer is leaving the stage so he can set up for the next act.
Before Coleron came along, Anchorage was lacking for the kind of professional open-mic you find in bigger cities like Boston where he is from. He’s kept it going for a couple of years now and it has paid off. The weekly venue is as popular and well run as the open-mics I have visited in Portland, OR. It has also inspired other open-mics around town.
We are fortunate that a friend turned him onto the idea of visiting Alaska. He took a greyhound from Boston to San Francisco, hitched up the coast and caught a ride from Vancouver to Anchorage. He liked it here so much that he went home, packed his things and moved here. That was five years ago this March.
Actively involved in performing he has had gigs booked in Homer and Girdwood this past month alone, in addition to his weekly hosting duties. And he's now ready to record a new album with his current band, The Dan Coleron Trio, with Nathan Engebretson; formerly of SpeakEasy on standup bass, and Kris Rosentrator; formerly of many Anchorage bands including the Drunk Poets and Next Twelve on drums. He hopes to be going in to the studio in May and he's also working toward getting on the college tour circuit.
When asked what inspires him he says it’s a combination of Japanese Hawaiian Jewish Princesses, mountains and sunsets these days. I hope there are many in his future. For more on Dan visit his site at www.dancoleron.com.



- AK Press by Crsytal Hutchens