When a veteran band like Athens, Georgia psych-poppers Elf Power opt to self-title an LP it tends to suggest either a return to form or a total reinvention. Elf Power is something of the latter; the eponymous effort is a kind of dialing back for the band, a meticulous, often sleepy, somewhat doleful effort. It's a far cry from their early sugar-rushes, and even more deliberate-sounding than their more recent forays away from whimsy. The record's dedicated to the memory of the band's late friend and frequent collaborator, fellow Athenian Vic Chesnutt, and its shift in tone seems to reflect the loss. But the mournful air that hangs over much of Elf Power seems to bog down the band's oft-lively songcraft; despite a few bright spots, the record often feels more depleted than elegiac.
Always an outlier in the Elephant 6 fold-- less out-there than the Olivia Tremor Control, sneakier with the hooks than the Apples in Stereo-- the once fairly freaky Elf Power have gradually mellowed over the years. Ever since 2004's Walking With the Beggar Boys, they've taken more steps away from straight-up psych-rock, further tugging out the strands of British folk, alt-country, and power-pop that've long run through their records. Elf Power is perhaps their quietest and certainly their least excitable LP to date; kaleidoscopic instrumental flourishes are now the exception, not the rule, and the clear, tidy production puts the emphasis square on the songs themselves rather than any of the window dressing.
If only the songs themselves were a little more dazzling. The stately "The Taking Under" sets things off in high style, its grandiose shuffle sounding far richer and more vibrant than anything from 2008's In a Cave. But "Wander Through" meanders its way off course, and lead single "Stranger in the Window", with its limp folk-pop strum and wince-conjuringly earnest lyrics-- "tell me your secret if you'd like to meet the freak inside my mind," yikes-- grates, each coming across a mite unsure what to do with themselves. It's a problem Elf Power have all too often here; the once dynamic band plugs away tepidly, their mood somewhere between indifferent and cheerless, their arrangements often at odds with the songs' moods, their songcraft itself oddly hesitant.
Strange that a veteran band would seem to've taken such a hit in the confidence department, but more than anything, Elf Power feels frail, retreating. For the most part, the song structures themselves are strummy, plaintive little things, bereft of much internal tension. Andrew Rieger rarely brings rarely brings his voice too far above a hum, and his tunes only seem to approach the mid-tempo with caution. Rieger's imagistic lyrics bounce from the literal to the obtuse so often, it's tough to latch onto much beyond the occasionally prominently positioned clunker; Rieger's cryptic way with words clouds any direct reference to Chesnutt, but the funk that hangs off his every word is nevertheless palpable. Even a comparatively lighthearted song like "Tiny Insects" is delivered with a straight face. And all the sleepy balladry and morose ambling starts pushes every outlier to the forefront; the Alan Sparhawk-like snarl of "Boots of Lead" and the punchy "Goldmine in the Sun" would be strictly second-tier on almost any other Elf Power record, but here, they prove rare signs of vitality.
A cavalcade of Athenian indie rock royalty-- from Will Cullen Hart and Bill Doss of Olivia Tremor Control to Heather McIntosh of the Instruments-- drop in to busy up Elf Power's sound, and the occasional off-kilter arrangement or leftfield instrumental flourish provide this drizzly LP much of its color. But this crop of songs simply isn't sturdy enough this time out to prop up all that extraneous noise, and the ensemble overpowers the blankest of these tunes just as often as they flatter some of the stronger stuff. Fans of the band's older, funner stuff will be left cold by the glum Elf Power, and those who've dug into the band's more cultivated records will likely come away feeling as drained as the band seems to. Were its songs more dynamic, its arrangements less haphazard, its tone more even, its sentiments a bit more clearly stated, Elf Power could really be affecting. But as it is, it just feels affected; the sound of a band in mourning seeking a musical catharsis they can't quite extend to the listener.
