Indeed. Contacts dry out Anderson's eyes, so she wears glasses. She wound up with a ukulele and thought it was a fun change of pace, so she plays it. She picked an arbitrary moniker because she recognized that no one would glance twice at Danielle Anderson on a bill. She adds surreal humor to her performances because she thinks that singer-songwriters can be boring. That these things all matched some sort of zeitgeist is coincidence. People say she reminds them of Juno, which is disheartening because she is nothing like Juno.

Three years ago Anderson was in a mainstream-sounding folk act called Backdraft: The Musical that never really picked up steam, and one year ago she was making home music videos for an audience of mostly people she knew. Then, in December, she wound up on YouTube's home page, and by February she was making enough money on iTunes sales to quit her day job and start touring the country.

She realizes that it takes more than talent to get where she is today and is understandably wary about her continued success. She wasn't in a glasses mood at a recent show and thought about wearing contacts. Probably it wouldn't matter at all, but when things are going this well, you don't screw with them. She wore her glasses.

Danielle Ate the Sandwich — but she didn't shoot the deputy.
Danielle Ate the Sandwich — but she didn't shoot the deputy.


Danielle Ate the Sandwich, Monolith, with the Mars Volta, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and much more, 12:30 p.m. Saturday, September 12, and Sunday, September 13, Red Rocks Amphitheatre, $59.50-$110, 1-888-512-7469.

Obviously, it's working. As she's being interviewed in a coffee shop, Anderson is recognized. The barista isn't sure at first, but eventually, after she sees the recorder and overhears something about songwriting, she decides to go in the back and play some Danielle Ate the Sandwich over the PA.

"I'm so embarrassed and flattered at the same time," Anderson says after a few seconds of shocked recognition.

The barista's roommate, it turns out, is a fan. A little later, she brings out the roommate's sunglasses and asks Anderson to sign them. They're bright-orange Wayfarer knockoffs made with dull plastic by Volcom. On the back of the frame in Sharpie, Anderson writes: "Bailey — You wasted your money on these glasses. — Danielle Ate the Sandwich."

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