Last summer
I discovered The Black Angels, listened the hell out of their unbelievable first
album Passover, and watched them play
an awesomely messy set at the Town Ballroom. They made the lovably odd choice
of concluding that set with a lengthy sitar solo, performed by Rishi Dhir, who
is the lead singer of Elephant Stone. A few months ago, after I heard through
The Black Angels’ Facebook page that Elephant Stone was releasing a self-titled
LP on February 5th, I made the decision that it was going to be
great.
Now, we all know how expectations
work. It’s very rare that something comes along and exceeds them; more often
than not, we are let down. That’s usually on us. We’re guilty of setting the
bar too high, and then judging something and calling it a disappointment if it
fails to reach that level. I’m going to use Band of Horses as an example. They
developed a tight-knit, if relatively small following after their first two
albums, and expectations were high for their third. When Infinite Arms came out a few years later, fans pretty much thought
it sucked. The same thing happened this past year when they released Mirage Rock, and now some fans are saying
they’re done. I happen to think Mirage
Rock and to a lesser extent Infinite
Arms are very good albums, but that doesn’t matter: They will forever be
judged by the height at which they initially set the bar. This is not unusual.
This happens all the time.
What’s interesting, and how this
relates to Elephant Stone, is that my
expectations for this album were based not on an opinion I’d formed myself
based on Elephant Stone’s previous work, but rather on the word of an entirely
different band that I have no real connection to. The Black Angels play very
dark, psychedelic music, and The Black Angels told me to listen to Elephant
Stone. So when I listened to Elephant
Stone and noted that there were way too many songs that would fit in
perfectly if played in the background of a summer-love montage, I checked
Twitter to see if there were any accounts of pigs flying and I checked Gawker
to find a report of an asteroid heading right for Earth. Surely the world must
be ending if The Black Angels, a band that recently came to Buffalo and played one
set without an encore and wrapped-up the night with a ten-minute
sitar solo; a band that, in other words, doesn't seem to give a fuck, recommended Elephant Stone, a band that seems to strive for pop perfection.
My initial confusion manifested
itself in the form of disappointment in Elephant
Stone. But that seems to be changing. I’m listening to Elephant Stone as I’m typing this, and even now, my opinion of it
is evolving. If someone told me to listen to an album that contained reverb-heavy
tracks, prominent drums, and lengthy periods of instrumental weirdness I’d be
totally sold. The sitar isn’t for everyone (I’m personally not a huge fan), and
although the sitar is definitely an important aspect of this album, it’s not at
all overwhelming. Rishi Dhir is not playing the sitar for the sake of playing
the sitar, and I’m thankful for that.
The biggest problem I had at
first was Dhir’s voice. It was “too good,” if you know what I mean. Unlike Alex
Maas of The Black Angels, who sings as passionately as anyone and it sounds
perfect, Dhir tries to sing too perfectly and you don’t feel the passion. But there
I go again, trying to compare Elephant Stone to another band; that’s not how I’d
recommend listening to this album. Take it for what it is: a ten-track
collection of short and sweet songs, with the exceptions of “A Silent Moment,”
and “The Sea of Your Mind,” where the band swerves off the beaten path and
makes a diversion into the realm of the unknown, resulting in some seriously good times.
“The Sea of Your Mind,” is the best
song and a justification for buying the entire album. But it’s a 9-minute commitment. The best sample of Elephant
Stone is the second track, “Heavy Moon,” on which you can hear the
startling contrast between the ominous tone of the music and the beautiful
pitch of Rishi Dhir’s voice.
If I discovered these guys on my
own, if I’d stumbled across them on the radio or something, I’d probably love
them. But right now, I can’t shake this unnatural, unjustifiable feeling of
disappointment. Elephant Stone is, ultimately,
a great example of the irony of social media: I might never have heard of
Elephant Stone if it wasn’t for Facebook, but I probably would have liked their
album a whole lot more.
Grade: B-
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