After long days and nights of federally mandated carpet-bombing, the once-mighty Elephant 6 collective finally gave itself up, but not before a select few escapees could be spirited away in the night. Some of the various refugees have sought sanctuary with Orange Twin, some with SpinART, but all still faithfully live to tell the tale of E6 to all who will listen; amen. Fortunately, judging from the post-E6 outburst of some of these bands, the story hasn't changed much. Unfortunately, though, the story hasn't changed at all, and the Great Lakes aren't gonna be the ones to bring something new to the table.
The Distance Between features the same fuzzy, sunny day parade retro-pop that typified their former label, doing exactly what's expected-- which, of course, is mining that same old late-60s pop territory. Still, the faith with which these guys have adhered to the E6 party line smacks of a wholesome, charming consistency which, surprisingly, goes quite a long way; that the songs manage to vary somewhat independently within such a rigid aesthetic is a further bonus. Slight shifts of tempo and rhythm help to keep things from going stale too quickly; sometimes the guitars are jinglier, sometimes fuzzier. With some shiny, near-ubiquitous orchestral flourishes, the band at times even comes across like Beulah (the best band in my recent memory to cop the same rosy, 60s psych sound), albeit without quite the same fervor or dynamism.
So go ahead and call me a miserable, baby-eating cynic when I say that, for being such a solid, mildly enjoyable album, all The Distance Between's blue skies and warm breezes just wear me out. This album only has two moods: happy and really fucking happy. Whether the Lakes are stomping their way through the hazy rock of "Sister City", or drifting along on languid string swells and harmonica in the following "Ever So Over", they never fails to have a dreamy, Oxycontin-induced smile mercilessly etched across their faces. Even the covers they choose are cheery; The Zombies' "This Will Be Our Year" is reproduced in all of its glorious optimism as a faithful homage to one of the Lakes' obvious influences, along with Mike Nesmith's "Some of Shelley's Blues". The hyper-extended jam outro to "Conquistadors" was the last straw. After only a half-hour, it felt like I'd been cracked in the face with a rainbow hammer.
The Distance Between never sets its sights beyond the blissful psych-pop it emulates, but they nail it, at least. The closest they ever come to breaking stride is "Tugboat Sailor", a barely-disguised rip-off of Galaxie 500's signature distortion layers, and even then the Great Lakes still allow their fundamental breezy good-humor to shine through. By switching through numerous combinations of piano, horns, and strings, they keep things from stagnating, while preserving a vital cohesion. But while the E6 legacy of guitar fuzz and hooky retro is being upheld competently by the Great Lakes, they take it just a little too far. Still, there's nothing wrong with being happy (I hear some people are actually rather fond of it), and this album can fill that niche admirably. But after this record's relentless reign of joy, even the most carefree individuals may feel like frowning, just to make sure they still can.
