Elks: Elks

Elks‘ two pre-album singles – reviewed collectively in issue 3 of DrunkenWerewolf – were an impressive demonstration of confidence and accomplishment. Nevertheless, maintaining a similarly consistent level of quality across an entire album was by no means a foregone conclusion. Many groups have faltered at the considerably larger hurdle of putting together a cohesive collection of material that manages to be as absorbing as their initial offerings.
Thankfully the band has risen to the challenge and this self-titled debut fulfils their early promise in a rather spectacular way. Both of the singles – The Acorn and Wide Avenues – appear in re-recorded versions. Neither of these particularly break new ground, but appear to have been fleshed out and given subtle makeovers in line with the slightly warmer and more complex tone of the album as a whole.
Elks’ lyrical preoccupations remain broadly unaltered: their outsider perspective is a recurring concern, fleeing the small towns in which they were born (in Four Pale Letters), where they felt “like dogs locked in hot cars, where one breath is too many to have to hold”, yet (in London) feeling no more at home in the metropolis (“London, this is a warning, your people are tired, your people are wired”).
Fear, fights and paranoia abound. In The Acorn they leave the city for “the lakes and the mountains” but little changes: “I keep a gun under my bed, because these country folk are all whack-whack-whacked on prescription medicines”. Nauseated and panic-stricken, comfort can only ultimately be found in a brown bag used as a breathing aid and a return to the environment that fuelled their original anxiety.
Independent Bodies continues the theme of isolation (“No one knows what’s the matter with you when your devil’s within”), its title emphasising the disconnection between the narrator and everything he sees around him. Epic Of Diet Soda rejects churches, political parties and the military against an intense and jaunty musical backdrop that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on one of the earlier Pixies albums.
In fact, the music as a whole bears many passing similarities with Black Francis’ former band, without being remotely derivative. Don’t come to Elks expecting to hear a modern take on Surfer Rosa – you’ll be sorely disappointed – but nevertheless there’s a similar mixture of complexity supporting a core of strong melodies. Remember the way that The Pixies made rock sound fresh and interesting again? Elks do that too.
On the subject of Big Names, occasionally I’ve heard echoes of Radiohead in this album. I doubt this is the result of any conscious attempt at homage, but sometimes there’s an air of desolation to the vocals that couples with some kind of unexpected chord change and sounds oddly familiar. Neither of these comparisons should undermine Elks’ own musical vision, they merely hint at the band’s level of achievement.
Elks perform a fine balancing act between many fascinating dualities: environmental claustrophobia and epic soundscapes; the song-oriented structures of indie and the more challenging textures of math-rock; tender reflection and screaming catharsis. The great thing about their album is that none of this feels contradictory. Rather, it all coalesces in the form of a captivating set of songs that deserves to win them many new fans.
This review was written in June and originally published in DrunkenWerewolf issue 5 in October. DrunkenWerewolf is published bi-monthly and covers new and unusual acts who operate in a roughly acoustic/indie/experimental vein.