Episode 338. Amigo The Devil- Eclectic Musician- Louder Than Life

You’ve probably stumbled into an Amigo The Devil show if you’ve heard a room full of people yelling, “I hope your husband dies,” in some harmoniously sloppy, drunken unison. Danny Kiranos, better known to the masses as his musical counterpart Amigo The Devil, has been challenging the expectations of traditional folk, country music purists, and rock/extreme metal fans alike with his morbid yet oddly romantic take on folk that has amassed a dedicated and cult-like fan-base. Despite being armed with only his vocals and a banjo/acoustic guitar, the live show is worlds away from what people expect of a folk show. Loaded with sing-alongs and an unsuspecting dose of humor to make otherwise grim topics accessible for fans of every genre, the songs remain deeply rooted in the tradition of story-telling that seems to be slipping away from the human condition.

RAMBLING:
“I got tired of seeing people overcomplicate what they feel or ignore it altogether. Amigo The Devil started as an outlet for the brutal honesty people didn’t feel comfortable discussing. More than create, I listened. At a bar, while eating dinner, at the DMV. Call it creeping if you want, but it’s a pass time nonetheless. Even in the released music, people used metaphors to dance around and avoid mentioning people’s dark thoughts, which isn’t enough to shake you from a daydream or a fever. It had to be simple, direct, and honest. At the start, it seemed logical to learn this process by taking the worst people and finding humanity in them. I wrote some songs about serial killers and realized that no matter how despicable their crimes were, everything was still rooted in the human condition with the same basic need to be needed, feel valued, and have worth. Through this learning process, I realized there was something so much more dangerous than the people committing heinous crimes, and it was stained so deeply into the fabric of our daily lives. Doubt and the depression it leaves us stranded in. Every experience is different, but all of a sudden, it felt like I was living in a well so deep that if I shouted for help, it would be lost on the way and never heard. It’s terrifying when it feels like you’re alone down there, and there isn’t enough light to look around to realize how many people are alongside you. For some reason, I refused to talk to my friends and family about it. It was shameful or irrelevant or any other excuse I could come up with to avoid bringing it up. When they would notice and ask, I repeatedly answered, “everything is fine,” or any variation of it at that moment. So this record was born. I started listening again, realizing it wasn’t just me. I saw people around me falling into the well, but as I started paying attention, I saw people climbing out of it too. These are the stories of leaving the burden behind, whatever that may be. Hopefully, along with it, the realization that carrying them for any period doesn’t break us but makes us stronger than we ever were.

This is where Ross Robinson comes in. He allowed me to become and guided me towards being the best vessel to filter these stories through. We sat there and accepted what wanted to come through and be heard. It was the first process of recording that ever made complete sense with absolutely no filter or veil to compensate for the sounds—recording in a studio untouched since the ’70s with all the original gear, straight to tape. Everything recording, mixing, mastering, to tape! It was absolute and pure brutal honesty, what I’ve been trying to achieve since the start of this thing. Then Brad Wilk added his pulse to it, and it felt like we had given life to these stories that otherwise are sounds and lyrics filling space. Everyone involved dove headfirst into a pool without water for this one, and I’m unbelievably grateful to be in there with them.”