Elbow emerged fully formed at a time when it may have helped their cause to be more malleable. Around the turn of the century, hailing from the British Isles and playing mid-tempo rock served as qualification to be "the next Radiohead," and even if Elbow got caught in that dragnet, they weren't quite as fresh-faced or brash as those now-laughably incompatible peers. Once that whole thing morphed into the search for the next Coldplay, Elbow weren't quite singles-minded enough to fit that bill either, and unlike Starsailor or JJ72, they weren't destined to be used solely as comic fodder for music reviews in 2009. True, they've carved out a pretty enviable career, but stateside I imagine someone right this very minute is confusing them with Doves.
If Elbow did seem too mature for a new band, you can chalk it up to Asleep in the Back gestating for almost a decade. As such, it can be described in a lot of unsexy ways-- patient, stately, considered, professional. There's only one song that really qualifies as "rock" (though the menacing "Bitten By the Tailfly" is defined by its tension as much as its volume), half of the tracks top out at over five minutes, moving with cruise-ship luxury and tempo, and there aren't really hooks so much as "moments" where the restraint and attention to sonic detail build into an undeniable payoff. Now, talking about production is usually viewed as a backhanded compliment-- we should be talking about the songs, man... right? But as languorous as the tempos can be, Asleep in the Back is studious and hardworking, proof that modern albums can still sound luxurious.
Despite minimal soloing and nothing in the way of tricksy time signatures, it strangely got tagged as "prog." It sort of is in the way Built to Spill's Perfect From Now On was "prog"-- constantly shifting textures and always sounding like it's headed somewhere. The dank bass and processed, dub-influenced drum sound that begins "Any Day Now" come off like a hungover transmission from Massive Attack's Mezzanine until the band opens the shades and lets the sun inside (to cop a quote from Cast of Thousands' "Ribcage"). Two bright and major-key chords repeat throughout the track's six minutes with unease, breaking down for an a cappella mission statement: "How's about getting out of this place... got a lot of spare time, some of my youth and all my senses on overdrive."
Most tracks are buffeted with horns and strings, but in retrospect it's all the more impressive how they're culled for shading than the kind of levels-in-the-red overkill that often resulted in post-Arcade Fire orchestration. So much about the gorgeous title track sneaks up you-- a whistling organ drone breezes easily through the mix, woodwinds seep into the guitar waltz like ink into water, and when the trumpets herald its hopeful finale, it feels earned. The violin shredding at the end of "Red" combines with the controlled chaos of Jupp's cymbal hits to mirror its subject's descent into substance addiction. "Saxophone coda" is the sort of thing that gets brought up when savaging an overblown cod-epic, but such a device is all the more effective on "Powder Blue" for how it contrasts with the powerless of its narrator ("I'm proud to be the one you hold when the shakes begin").
Which is not to suggest Elbow are merely a studio band. A couple of Steve Lamacq radio sessions and an early EP are included in the Deluxe packaging, and the band sounds great in a stripped down setting, particularly singer Guy Garvey. The Peter Gabriel comparisons were certainly fair, as the strongest melodic moments of Asleep tend to find Garvey in that register. But for the most part, Garvey turned out to have more in common with barstool-bound indie bards of America-- wryly romantic like the National's Matt Berninger without the class-consciousness, drunk like the Walkmen's Hamilton Leithauser but not as unhinged. Although the guitar hook of "Bitten By the Tailfly" rivals the earwax-blast of "The Rat", it's in large part due to how quiet its surroundings are-- it's a rare treat to hear a major-label album where the soft parts are quiet and the loud parts are loud. The dynamic volume of Asleep in the Back set the standard for what would turn out to be one of the most consistently well-produced bands out there.
And then there's "Newborn", the centerpiece of Asleep. If you've heard only the radio version, you've literally got only half the story. Though clocking in at a mighty seven minutes, the first three were used as a compact single, while the the triplet guitar figure that bridges the verse and chorus become the intro for the stunning second half, a constantly building that sits somewhere between Catherine Wheel's most heroic moments and the strange, pastoral spirituality of latter-day Talk Talk (it's possible the abrupt ending is a direct nod to "Ascension Day"). It's such a stunning, career-defining performance that the second half of Asleep in the Back can't help but take something of breather: The downtempo "Don't Mix Your Drinks" establishes the languid mood that isn't lifted until the lovely, fingerpicked nostalgia of "Scattered Black and Whites".
I guess we're dancing around the obvious question of who knows why Asleep in the Back is getting the bonus treatment right in between rounder anniversaries-- about eight years old, and can be easily obtained in its original edition. Maybe it's contractual, maybe it's just a Hail Mary attempt to give critics a quick reminder while putting together Best of 00s lists (NME has it at #30), or maybe, as Jason Crock pointed out in his review of the recent Jesus Lizard reissues, it wouldn't be a surprise if it merely was done to cut through a poky December release slate to remind listeners of its existence. Either way is satisfactory as long as Elbow have a chance to be heard anew instead of taken for granted: Asleep in the Back shows one of this decade's most underrated bands in its finest hour.
