Daily Toll Delivers Powerful Modern Daily Folktales At Phoenix Central Park

How deprived are we today of folktales? In a modern age of smartphones and short-form media, long forgotten are the days when imagination and storytelling ruled – when we would gather around a narrator, bound by the collective awe of a story. Yet, on occasion an artist will rebel against this notion, standing against modern chaos and raising their voice to an audience – “Egyszer volt, hol nem volt, egy messzi-messzi tájon.”

These words, blurred over a deep electronic drone and sampled from the 1981 adaptation of the Hungarian folktale The Son of The White Mare, began the folktale-like performance of Daily Toll at Judith Neilson’s Phoenix Central Park on November 4.

The English translation: “Once there was, where there also once wasn’t, in a land far, far from here…”

Beneath this mythic introduction, emerging from the darkness as if also from a land far from here, the characters of tonight’s folktale graced the centre of the room.

First was Kata Szász-Komlós – The Storyteller, who approached the fore of the warm space and knelt at a glowing typewriter on the edge of the red patterned Persian rug.

Close behind was Jasper Craig-Adams and his bass guitar, accompanied by pianist Felix and trumpeter/beatmaker David. The three took their place silently behind Szász-Komlós and like us, looked toward The Storyteller, waiting for the tale to begin.

A microphone hung over the keys of the typewriter, as if asking them to speak. When Szász-Komlós’ fingers rose to these keys, hovered, then deliberately began to hammer a story onto the page loaded into the carriage, this microphone achieved its wish. The distinct click-clacking voice echoed through the space, melting into the deep drone still flooding from the speakers.

Having spoken to Kata and Jasper backstage – the latter now beginning to waltz with his bass, pulling a bow slowly across its strings – I would like to think that Kata’s keys spoke of the significance the two attributed to tonight’s performance. Of how, after three years of evolution as a project – from a spontaneous EP recorded in a living room, to countless performances built on collaboration and experimentation, to international tours and label deals – tonight Daily Toll were returning to their roots.

“Time isn’t linear. It’s a spiral,” Kata told me, “And tonight I feel like I’ve met myself again from when I first started writing music, but with all the knowledge and experience of the last three years.”

Now, as The Storyteller rose from the typewriter, click-clacks sampled and allowed to fly free, I imagined this sentiment clinging to them.

Picking up their guitar, The Storyteller turned to the other characters and began to tell a tale both old and new. Though this was a far sight different from your traditional folktale.

Long, contemplative stretches were void of words, instead filled with synth, trumpet, slow choruses of bowed bass strings, and guitar laden with tides of shimmering reverb. The band would tie songs together, stretching time apart, before sucking us back to reality with a sharp drum hook or striking riff.

In these moments – which I later discovered were mostly improvised – the story could be seen in the expressions on the character’s faces. How they looked at each other with rotating concentration, amusement, and exaltation. Thrilled to be playing such a lauded venue, while focused intently on bringing these songs to life.

Then, between these atmospheric stretches, when Szász-Komlós approached the microphone, storytelling in its true and timeless form emerged.

Poems – spoken, sung and spat – were nothing but deliberate. A clear weight hung on every word Kata delivered, elevated by flourishes of mournful trumpet, hammering bass, flashing synth or harmonised backing vocals.

Within these poems were stories of such modern life at times they came close to mundanity. Yet they were delivered with such eloquence, colour, and mysticism a clear beauty bound them together.

They were folktales of our modern day.

And so continued these tales until, in the final paragraph of the performance, true to the experimental roots of the band, Kata invited members from the audience to approach the stage. Here, they were offered an array of toys arranged on small wooden tables – a chain, a wooden frog, an egg shaker, a clicker, wooden blocks – and hanging over them, a microphone. Smiling, Kata invited the audience members to play.

At first, it was impossible not to grin as the new characters fumbled with their toys, but as the random clinking, tapping, and banging rose from the speakers, contrasting with the band’s slow, meticulously layered compositions, a beautiful image emerged.

It seemed, without our knowing, Daily Toll had led us into a forest. Random calls of creatures echoed atop the gentle flow of a running river. An immense calm began to flow through the room. And after some time, The Storyteller’s voice rose for a final song.

Like oxygen, Kata’s words filled our lungs. They worked into our veins. They gripped at our hearts. They bound us together. And as they rose, waned, and finally ended, the band dropped their instruments and came together in a tight embrace.

On the edge we were left looking to each other in disbelief, awed and bonded by the power of a story.