. Br. Danielson Brother is to Son Secretly Canadian ike many young people in the mid-'90s who made their first forays into musical exploration by way of the Christian underground, I was a huge fan of Tooth and Nail Records. In the years since my introduction to the label, my tastes have expanded a great deal, but, despite the relentless watering-down of its roster, I am still a fan.       Many people, myself included, will tell you that Tooth and Nail is chronically double-minded, seemingly interested simultaneously in the opposing realms of true artistic expression and derivative radio drivel. I was initially attracted to the label for its extensive pop-punk lineup, but T&N was also putting out works of staggering brilliance by the likes of Roadside Monument, Frodus, Havalina Rail Co., Blenderhead, Pedro the Lion, Starflyer 59 and many more. There, among the ranks of those fine artists, and awkwardly filling space on one of my many Tooth and Nail music video compilations, was the Danielson Famile. Their construction paper animation clip for "Rubbernecker" was bewildering and humorous. I could never have denied that they were original, but I rarely viewed them as anything more than an amusing oddity. I will admit that I was completely in the dark as to what, if anything, Daniel Smith and his biological and honorary family members were attempting to accomplish. Oh, what revelations age brings.       Today, Smith and his bevy of backup musicians have formed their own collective of sorts, Sounds Familyre, which, along with Asthmatic Kitty, has become one of my favorite labels. Still, upon hearing of the release of Daniel Smith's inaugural solo outing as Br. Danielson, I was a tad bit skeptical. I could only think of Smith in his scrubs, strumming his guitar through holes in a large, fake tree, his sister-nurses behind him chanting. Sure it was intriguing, but it had always been too bizarre for me to take seriously. But, I thought to myself, this is the same man who recently produced Sufjan Stevens' Seven Swans, so how bad can it be?       Not bad at all. In fact, it's quite the opposite of bad. Brother is to Son is an enthralling and often awe-inspiring journey through the mind of Daniel Smith. While it may be true that my tastes have simply expanded far enough over the years to engulf Smith's particular brand of musical insanity in all of its forms (Fetch the Compass, Kids sounds more brilliant every time I hear it), it's also true that this is perhaps Smith's most fully realized and musically and lyrically complex release to date.       The album opens with "Things Against Stuff," a raucous anti-materialism rant in the spirit and style of past Famile releases. For a short period (actually just the duration of this song), it's easy to expect Brother is to Son to be just another Danielson Famile album, albeit implicitly more completely under the direction of Daniel Smith than other recent outings. The music doesn't seem too far removed from that of past albums. However, the opening moments of "Cookin' Mid-County" immediately dispel those suspicions. There's a noticeably more introspective tone in the music, the lyrics and Smith's own voice. The song is a simultaneously soothing and unsettling blend of guitar, piano, banjo and gritty drums, and Smith and company pack an astounding number of intriguing melodies and compositional ideas into it. The vocals are alternately harmonious and pleasantly grating, showing that Smith has not dropped his trademark in the process of expanding his vocal range. "Cookin' Mid-County" is so idiosyncratic and uniquely Daniel Smith that its multiple movements are impossible to predict, but that's hardly a fault. Part of the fun is observing the song as it builds and knowing that, while we're at a loss, Smith knows exactly where he's taking us, and he's unwavering in the confidence with which he leads us onward. This is how the rest of the album plays out, and it's an astounding performance.       Throughout the course of 10 tracks, Smith offers deep thoughts on faith and life from within the twists and turns of some of his most complex arrangements to date. Along with the regular Famile members, as well as father Lenny Smith and frequent collaborator Sufjan Stevens, Smith unleashes a brand of quirky, folky indie-pop that doesn't sound quite like anything else (yes, that's hyperbole, and no, I don't care). Though his voice is sometimes as perplexingly mouse-like as ever, his nearly inhuman yelp is more frequently drawn out into surprisingly melodious harmonies. The standout "Daughters Will Tune You" is an understated guitar and banjo piece that succeeds in being the antithesis to the Danielson Famile's often discordant energy. "Perennial Wine," "Hammers Sitting Still" and "Physician Heal Yourself" follow in its quiet footsteps and are equally as enjoyable. Though the band returns often to more characteristic form, it's obvious that this release is something entirely separate.       It sounds like Daniel Smith poured his entire self into this project, and there's something unexplainable about its power. The music's almost childlike sensibilities betray Smith's sophisticated musings, but that seemingly oxymoronic coupling somehow causes the songs to sound even more human. Smith comes across as completely sincere. It seems odd that one could so easily relate to such challenging, unclassifiable music, but that's the beauty and the brilliance of Brother is to Son: it's somehow completely unfamiliar and completely familiar all at once. -Chris Skillern