Could that title be a statement of direction from Elf Power, an acknowledgment that they stumbled instead of strutted on their previous album, 2004's Walking With the Beggar Boys? Could Back to the Web represent a retreat to their Athens lair, hidden dark in the recesses of Elephant 6 psych-pop or perhaps buried deep beneath Orange Twin, the group's 150-acre land conservation project? Could this album be a dramatic regrouping, a realigning of priorities and personnel to better capture their early, hazy pop bliss?
Certainly Back to the Web is the best and most confident Elf Power have sounded in years. The band has finally managed to integrate its 1960s folk fetish with its 70s rock jones-- two elements that are encoded in the group's collective DNA but have been squarely at odds with each other most of the time. Elf Power are doing something right, but interpreting the album title as career commentary might be giving them more credit that they deserve. For all the record's improvement on the band's sound, Elf Power remain completely unself-aware, with little to no idea of their strengths and weaknesses, which, admittedly, have shifted subtly since their last outing.
Back to the Web starts strong: "Come Lie Down with Me (and Sing My Song)" provides a low-key yet confident introduction, with Heather McIntosh's cello carrying an elegantly subdued melody. As the opener flows into the more upbeat "An Old Familiar Scene", the tempo remains checked and consistent-- unfortunately, it doesn't change much at all across these dozen tracks-- the same regulated rush of sound, lead by Andrew Rieger's curiously dry vocals, on song after song. Making the most of a generally undistinguished voice, he places one syllable squarely on each beat, with minimal syncopation. Reminiscent of Donovan at his Donovanest and 60s Ren-fest pop in general, this strategy is most pronounced on the darkly pastoral "Rolling Black Water" and "King of Earth", but throughout the album, Rieger rarely leaves his vocal comfort zone or abandons his meditative, slightly detached evenness.
Because he is the primary songwriter-- and because Elf Power's music has always served the lyrics-- Rieger's vocals restrain the band considerably, which seems especially unimaginative when the music sounds this nimble and emphatically evocative. With the addition of McIntosh on cello, Olivia Tremor Control's John Fernandes on violin and clarinet, Jimmy Hughes on guitar, and Josh Lott taking over drums, the lineup has expanded in interesting directions, giving the Elf even more Power. Together the band-- also including mainstays Laura Carter and bassist Brian Poole-- crafts sweeping scores for Rieger's songs, creating a psychedelic pastoral that's equally sunny and sinister. They pepper these tracks with beguiling sonic flourishes, like Julien Derocher's banjo on "23rd Dream" and McIntosh's cello drones adding low, ominous rumble to "Forming". Featuring Rieger's most lushly melodic hook and loosest vocal performance, "Peel Back the Moon, Beware!" is a sweetly shambling mid-album highlight, as Carter's accordion and Poole's bouncy bass dance around each other. These are moments that work despite the limitations of the album, proving the band is capable of much more than is captured on Back to the Web.
Too bad the songs aren't as adventurous as the music. This lack of songwriterly imagination severely limits the band's range. "King of Earth" sets a tone that sounds like it's leading somewhere, but despite the layering of instruments-- mostly reeds and guitars-- it never quite fulfills its promise to burst forth dramatically, instead fading at the end with little to show for its three minutes. Even on "Somewhere Down the River" and the closing title track, when they try to cut loose and kick up some real noise, Elf Power sound restrained and muted. As the album progresses and each song falls into the same lockstep, the repetitiveness becomes increasingly noticeable and tiresome, and even the band's freshly enthusiastic inventiveness can't entirely disguise or alleviate it. As a result, Back to the Web becomes, very much unintentionally, an album of unresolved tensions and undeveloped builds-- not a welcoming web, but a house full of identical rooms and steep stairs that lead into blank walls.
