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As oddball indie poppers Elf Power proudly stated on their third album, they're a band that Dream in Sound. So, it seemed appropriate to saunter up to this show after viewing Michael Gondry's new film, The Science of Sleep. In it, Gael García Bernal's character has trouble distinguishing his dreams from reality. Andrew Rieger, Elf Power's chief songwriter, has a similar infliction, even going so far as to state on the band's lo-fi breakthrough record When the Red King Comes that "it's hard to say what is real and what's made up."
Over the course of 12 years and eight albums, Reiger has expanded on this observation, regaling us with songs pertaining to fictional principalities (When the Red King Comes), psychedelic dreams (Dream in Sound), and scary creatures (Creatures, and at least one song on every other album).
Lately though, Rieger seems to be sliding back into reality. And, sadly, the reality for Elf Power is that when I saw them at the same venue four years ago there was a much bigger crowd. While others in the Elephant 6 pool where the group came up are performing laps at an alarming speed (Of Montreal) or lounging on inflatable infamies (Neutral Milk Hotel / Olivia Tremor Control), Elf Power is treading water -- albeit with admirable style and poise.
Tonight, the Kyhber is positively comatose, save for a few energetic fans down front (maybe they're all dreaming in sound as well?). Of course, it is a Sunday evening, and upstairs is a weekly $10 all-you-can-drink, open-bar disco extravaganza. None of this fazes Elf Power, whose lineup reads like a veritable who's who of the once sailing, now spluttering Elephant 6 scene. Rieger, on guitar and vocals, is the veritable mainstay and core member of the group, who, alongside Laura Carter, started the band back in the early '90s. Tonight, Carter (who lends her talents to several bands, as well as running the Orange Twin record label) plays keys, clarinet, second guitar, and anything else she can grab. Then there's Derek Almstead, former Of Montreal and Circulatory System member, with bass in hand and backing vocals at the ready. He's already played once tonight, with support band M Coast -- an act captained by another Of Montreal alum, Andy Gonzales. Heather McIntosh flits from cello to keys as often as she switches Athens-based bands, while Jimmy Hughes on guitar and Josh Lott on drums round out the group.
On stage, Elf Power entrench themselves in their instruments, digging at them like miners. It's a wall of sound approach with accents which, given their latest album's allusions to folk, is surprising. Over the top of these swashes of sound, subtle keyboard lines collide with clarinets, prickly lead guitar lines duel it out, and Reiger's monotonic vocals make the most of what they lack in range by burying themselves in melody.
Older songs such as "Will My Feet Still Carry Me Home" suffer from this approach; the subtle nuances on record are somewhat lost -- drowned out. New songs like "An Old Familiar Scene" from Back to the Web benefit, though, sounding tribal. What's missing, at first, is a sense of dynamics. They pound, pummel, and mix in cacophonic middle eights, but it's only when they sound like a band aping early R.E.M. that they find flow and form.
As the show segues into a more subdued stage (following a caterwauling "Everlasting Scream"), the band begins to find some sense of what was missing. Backing vocals become audible, and the sound shifts. "A Dream In Sound" is punchy Kinks-like pop, all chopping power chords, while "Separating Fault" from Red King benefits from the expanded group and sounds 10 times as large as it did on the tinny recording.
Two other cuts from that album ("Icy Hands" and "The Arrow Flies Close") are afforded the loudest cheers, indicating what the fans' favorite record is. Eastern influences also permeate the performance, possibly due to Reiger's 12-string electric guitar, which, at times, makes Elf Power sound like Can covering the Byrds.
The evening is summed up when, after only a few songs, some hack emerges from the darkness at the back of the room, shouting sarcastically "play all night" before returning to the bar to nurse a pint. It's a telling moment; for the few down front, flailing about, they wish the band would take his words to heart. Four years ago, at this very same venue, I too would have endorsed such a call (not in such a sarcastic manner, of course). But tonight, when they finish with a cover of the Tall Dwarfs' "Nothing's Going To Happen," the song title seems a little more prophetic than poetic.
— 16 October 2006
