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Environmentally Conscious
Expansive bands, producer of the moment help push pop music in new directions
By Noel Murray
JULY 3, 2000:
Last year, when the Athens, Ga., band Elf Power released its second
album A Dream in Stereo, it marked a torch-passing of sorts. Since
the mid-'90s, the group had allied itself with The Elephant 6 Recording
Company, a musicians' collective best known for the dreamy, raw, melodic
garage psychedelia of Olivia Tremor Control and Neutral Milk Hotel. Like
the Danish movie directors who shocked the world a few years ago with the
Dogme 95 manifesto, the E6-ers found instant notoriety in what started as a
stab at friendly solidarity. Among obsessive rock hounds at least, any band
connected to Elephant 6 had to be taken seriously.
A Dream in Stereo bore the Elephant 6 label, but it was
the finer print in the liner notes that told the record's real story
"Produced by Dave Fridmann." A founding member of spaced-out art-rockers
Mercury Rev, Fridmann has in the last half-decade earned a reputation for
producing lush, orchestrated pop records. His own band's 1998 album
Deserter's Songs began his trip out of obscurity, and then last
year's trifecta--A Dream in Stereo, Wheat's Hope and Adams,
and the magnum opus The Soft Bulletin by longtime collaborators
Flaming Lips--made him the go-to guy for bands with killer hooks in search
of inventive arrangements. When Elf Power hired Fridmann as producer, it
marked a shift in the agreed-upon "hot sound" for indie pop. Simply put
Elephant 6 is yesterday's news, Dave Fridmann is hot copy.
The latest Fridmann production is The Great Eastern, by The
Delgados, a Scottish band that has been making the Euro indie-pop scene
since the early '90s, earning comparisons to isle-mates The Wedding Present
(only less edgy) and cross-the-sea brethren like Pavement (only less
slack). Fridmann's influence on the band can be heard on the very first
song of its third LP. "The Past That Suits You Best" opens with muted,
mournful horns and a creaky, tired vocal from Alun Woodward, whose voice
has been distressed even further by being run through what sounds like a
telephone filter. After the intro, a skittery drumbeat heralds a brighter,
clearer passage, with sharper vocals and shimmering accents of flute and
organ. The song is six-and-a-half minutes long, breaking halfway through
for 30 seconds of clinking glasses and rhythmic clatter; there's also a
lengthy symphonic coda with strings, kettle drums, and a sort of chorale.
So, besides all the sonic trickery, what exactly is Fridmann adding? In
a word, drama. "The Past That Suits You Best" is about addicts trying to
stay clean, and the lyrics are ambiguous as to whether the song's
protagonist is trying to kick drugs, booze, or his attachment to nostalgia.
The hazy and direct vocalizing, the bits of pub-like noise, and the
resounding, backward-looking instrumentation that closes the piece all put
a context around the words and the melody--they imply that the singer's
best intentions will go for naught.
Not every song on The Great Eastern is so lavishly thought out.
Simpler ballads like "Witness" and "Knowing When to Run" use strings to get
the listener's attention (and for emotional appeal), but they're noteworthy
simply for being pretty, well-crafted songs. But Fridmann's thoughtful
arrangements are the rule, not the exception. "Accused of Stealing," a song
about an attempt to salvage a strained relationship, sung by the group's
other vocalist, Emma Pollock, goes through changes in tempo and tone over
its five-and-three-quarter-minute running time, with pauses for reflection
after key lyrics like, "Tried to convince you I'll be 'round one day /
You're probably thinking, just stay away." And on the aching "Reasons for
Silence," about a yearning for simplicity in culture and in communication,
an ethereal flute and Pollock's own high singing voice compete to see which
can disappear into the air quicker. The production style has become as
vital to the meaning of the song as the words.
While Fridmann is helping a good pop band make a record for the ages,
what's becoming of the DIY sensations of a few years ago? Well, the
flagship band of The Elephant 6 Recording Company, Robert Schneider's
Denver-based garage rock band The Apples in Stereo, has just released its
third LP as well, The Discovery of a World Inside the Moone. The
record opens with a fuzztone guitar, then a deafening blare of horns
immediately clears away the fuzz. That first track, "Go," is a sublime
statement of purpose--it's brisk, catchy as all get-out, and spiced with
just about every musical instrument known to man. The song serves as a
reminder to all that Elephant 6 was meant to stand for inventive homemade
recording, not the murky and pretentious neo-prog that many of the
collective's second-tier members have run with.
Schneider's hero is Brian Wilson, whose influence can be heard both in
the Apples' sunny, beach-party melodic style, and in their willingness to
bang on the kitchen sink if it'll create the proper sonic effect. And like
Wilson, Schneider is able to distract from his occasionally off-putting,
nasal vocals by mixing them low in arrangements that are at once loud,
busy, and yet easy to discern. Schneider also appears to have spent some
time listening to Jeff Lynne--not the wan Traveling Wilburys Lynne, but the
excessive ELO Lynne. The way the drums and the washes of sound blast out of
the speakers like a sudden storm is similar to the dense dance mixes of
mid-'70s ELO. And there's even some newfound funkiness in songs like "The
Bird That You Can't See" and "Stream Running Over," with their hand claps
and soulful organ lines.
More important than the aural environment of the record, though, is the
quality of the songs. Previous Apples in Stereo records suffered from
repetitive-sounding tracks that tended to exhaust the listener after about
20 minutes. The Discovery of... has up-tempo numbers that offer
white-knuckle excitement and slow tunes that are dreamily intoxicating, and
within those two approaches are nuances that make a song like "I Can't
Believe" appreciably different from the similarly forceful "Look Away."
Whether Schneider's friends and protégés in Elephant 6 follow up
on his renewed interest in crafting fun, entertaining records remains to be
seen, but for now, The Apples in Stereo have made the album that everyone
in that bunch should've been aiming for all along.
The distance between "the Dave Fridmann sound" and "the Elephant 6
sound" is not too great. Both styles go for as much instrumentation as
possible; the chief difference may be that Fridmann aims for clarity, to
accentuate meaning, while Schneider likes a little reckless energy and
enjoys cool noises for their own sake. Given the transitions taking place
in rock 'n' roll at the moment--toward more electronics, and toward a more
polished overall package--the more forward-looking Fridmann may have the
edge on the doggedly retro Schneider. But this isn't a battle, really. It's
two innovators garnering favor for music that's animated and full of the
consciousness that some call soul.

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