THE DARE
El Rey Theatre
Los Angeles
September 27, 2024
The title of the Dare’s 2024 debut album poses a question: What’s Wrong with New York? Here’s my take: they don’t know how to have fun. While Harrison Patrick Smith’s ascent to the indie sleaze throne has been remarkably frictionless — first we knew him as a Dimes Square one-hit wonder, now he’s signed to Republic with a brat shout-out and magazine features galore — responses to his reign have been mixed. Although any event with his name on the flyer will pull in a sizable crowd of party animals, some critics scoff at his sex, drugs, and rock and roll shtick, which goes heavy on the sex part. (Exhibit A: his The Sex EP, anchored by the single “Sex,” features cover art with fully clothed models sporting American Apparel as they simulate intercourse.)
In recent conversations about the state of raunchy media, the line “Everything is about sex but nothing’s sexy” is often bandied about. Applying this critique to the Dare, detractors have argued that no one could ever get down and dirty to his goofy electroclash. To which I reply: Come on, guys. Do we really think a song with lyrics like “I want to call your mom / and tell her you’re the bomb” was intended for the bedroom? Smith’s mission, as I interpret it, is not to make us horny but to make us dance. (Exhibit B: “I’m in the club while you’re online.”) After the moody spell of late-2010s pop, someone needed to get us moving (and laughing). This is why his music is best experienced live — and why I marked my calendar the moment I heard he was coming to El Rey Theatre.
I’ve seen Smith perform once before — at El Cid last summer, when he only had a handful of tracks to his name. Back then, the crowd seemed limited to those “in the know”: girls in pleated skirts and boys in Celine. A year later, post – Charli XCX co-sign, his reach has expanded exponentially. The much-larger room was packed all the way to the back, full of fervent teens filming vertical videos. It makes sense that he’s one of the New York scene’s biggest cultural exports — while other Downtown micro-celebs have been criticized as reactionary or divisive, the Dare’s anthemic choruses are accessible to all (except those with particularly puritanical sensibilities). The only consistent demographic among the concertgoers was age — the Dare is for the kids, meaning anyone under 30 with a bohemian lifestyle (or the audacity to show up to their day job with dark circles under their eyes).
The Dare came to us as he does in every photo shoot and music video: clad in a tailored suit, peering out at us behind sunglasses. Strobes illuminated his gaunt frame as he pumped his fist, kicked, and leapt through the air. Smith is frequently compared to LCD Soundsystem, but I consider him more of a Franz Ferdinand figure — his faux British accent, cheeky sense of humor, penchant for groovy guitars. Songs like “Good Time” (“Oh! Let’s have some fun tonight”) and “You’re Invited” (the name says it all) set the tone for the revelry that was to come.
Despite the Dare’s festive MO, his show did boast tonal shifts. Smith’s archetypal indie-boy yelps gave way to rave vibes for the instrumental “Bloodwork.” (He cleverly interpolated “guess,” which he produced for Charli — specifically, the section where she riffs on Daft Punk’s “Technologic” by quipping, “Send ’em to the Dare — yeah I think he’s with it.”) Later, his sole ballad “Elevation” had fans swaying in time, singing about lost love.
Of course, the set ended by going back to the beginning: his first hit “Girls,” the most inclusive ode to hot chicks ever written (trans “girls,” pregnant “girls,” and religious “girls” all get some love). At El Cid, Smith invited the front row onstage to jump around with him; at his current level of fame, such a move might have resulted in a stampede. Still, he committed to the bit by diving into the crowd, eliciting a series of screams from fans. Part of the allure of party-hard music is the fantasy of being ushered past the velvet rope — and at every show, the Dare makes it clear that you, yes, you, are personally invited.
