The Holy Childhood

July 8th, 2005 by Dave Clifford

Although his two elder brothers, Ted and Chris Leo have made bigger names for themselves amongst the indie-rock elite, singer/guitarist Danny Leo put his siblings to shame on his expansive and daring Y2K debut album under the moniker The Holy Childhood.
Not only is it expansive and daring (I’ll explain in a moment), but the album, Up With What I’m Down With was one of the coolest albums to be released that year. Why? Because, Danny Leo can’t really sing, but judging by his songwriting talents, he’s obviously familiar with the notes he’s trying to reach. But, instead of talking or screaming or hiring someone else to do it for him, he daringly strains, often just a half-step shy, or a whole step sharp of the note he’s aiming to hit. And, most of the time, when he’s not eager to belt out that soaring wail (only to gloriously miss) he’s got a passionate, signature delivery which hearkens to other great balladeers: Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, et al. What’s even more compelling about The Holy Childhood, is its use of a chorus of angelic female vocalists who actually do hit all the notes for which Leo yearns. Therefore, atop the beautifully swaggering compositions of piano, guitars, drums and occasional brass are lush layers of voices that harmonize with Leo’s yelp to form minor chords atop the major chord backing tracks. Just like X had a unique finesse to the way John Doe would hold the root note to whatever banshee wail note Exene would stumble upon. It’s an old trick, but the singers must have perfect intonation for it to work properly. And, The Holy Childhood finds that perfect trinity of musical transubstantiation. Not only is it vocally intriguing and unique, the album is rife with powerful songwriting and beautifully simple melodies. "Shame" sets the record’s tone by starting with Leo’s lone, warbling voice smeared over strummed guitar chords. Male voices begin to harmonize with Leo as his voice leaps to a flat yelp, bleating, "I seem to think this whole union is a shame." Laid-back saloon piano and drums stagger into the mix as the song climaxes and segues into the Elliot Smith-esque opening riff of the second track, which soon spills into a brassy barroom sway. Danny Leo is quite apparently a fantastic and versatile songwriter, and he’ll eventually earn the ear of the multitudes who may chuckle at his strained voice. I won’t compare him to Bob Dylan, but, hey, the kid’s only in his early 20s and immediately one of the most compelling voices in independent music. Too bad he hasn’t remained very prolific since this debut, but I’m sure there’s more to come eventually. Up with whatever he’s down with? You’re goddamn right.