all photos: James Malone
all words: Wlada Kolosowa

Watching The Freelance Whales perform doesn’t feel like a concert. It is more of sneaking into a tiny playroom where five outgrown kids try to figure out two questions: “What kind of noise do we want to make?” and “Who should play with which toy?” Everybody, except for the stationary drummer, swaps instruments and loosely floats around the stage that seems  too small to fit all of them plus their toys. There are a lot of playthings in this room: banjos, synthesizers, glockenspiel, a harmonium and watering cans. Things making sounds that let you believe the playroom is located in an enchanted forest. And this forest seems to be surrounded by an ocean grace to a whale-noise making gadget called the waterphone.

Sounds like a dream? It is. Front man Judah Dadone claims that some of Freelance Whales’ pieces were born out of writing down slumbering adventures. The end-product suggests that Freelance Whales must have a crystal-clear conscience before going to bed every night. They play mellifluous, tingly songs about exchanging body heat and broken horses. A sound that (if you would dare to give up your coolness for a minute and close your eyes at a public concert)- would project purling creeks, vanilla pudding and puppies on the back of your eyelids.

Washington DC is almost home turf for the Whales. Julia Dadone graduated from George Washington 2007 and says that he’s always happy to come back. “Our warmest and most enthusiastic fans live in DC”, he confessed after the concert. However, the show was more about head-nodding than tush-shaking, even though the pre-band Animal Tropical was clearly taking a swinging note. The curly foursome from Miami hit the bull’s eye for those who are into concerts that look more like ironic band practices. The opening act almost seemed like a persiflage to an indie band – with beer drinking and arguing on stage plus a frontman that fidgets like a marionette. The crowd was looking at them with benevolence but didn’t participate in the wiggling. I guess everybody couldn’t wait to be bedazzled by the main act.

Nagging critics compare Freelance Whales to a poppy version of Arcade Fire mashed up with Surfjan Stevens. They might be right. The lucky ones who could get hold of a ticket to their sold out tour got an hour of gentle pop-folk almost too sweet to be true – a perfect soundtrack for a fairy tale.

Freelance Whales’ story also sounds like a modern myth: They met each other on craigslist, played home parties in Queens, busked New York’s public transportation before… the fate pushed the fast-forward button. Within a year The Whales opened up for Fanfarlo, released the Weathervanes and are now heading to bedazzle London.