There is nothing special about Elbow. Perhaps this is why they have been dropped by both Island and EMI as they were just starting out, likely due to their lack of an identity within the wave of late '90s British melodic soft rock. Overshadowed by such groups as Coldplay and Travis, Elbow managed to survive on the independent circuit until their more recent and lasting contract with V2 Records.
Their latest album, last year's "Leaders of the Free World," was released stateside on Tuesday. Hailed as a masterful follow-up to 2003's "Cast of Thousands," it actually demonstrates a failed attempt at a new identity, often sounding more contrived than creative. Much of the hype surrounding this album was derived from its alleged social awareness and politically conscious lyrics, but listeners should beware of the obvious contradictions in style.
The title track picks not so subtly on the current U.S. administration by referring to the "commander-in-chief" and "passing the gun from father to feckless son." Traditionally, politically charged music has been either explosive, controversial or edgy. This is not to say that songwriters shouldn't express themselves politically, but it is hard to label a song which everybody's grandmother will surely love as revolutionary or even groundbreaking.
Take this deficiency with a grain of salt, though, because "Leaders" is the only attempt at such social awareness on the entire album. One would not expect that an album with such a political title would begin with words like "Be everything to me tonight" from "Station Approach." In fact, other than the title track, every single song is written about his love for a woman, his loneliness in her absence or some combination of the two.
"Forget Myself," the third song on the album, is a classic example of intentional overproduction of sub-par material. The vocals are pleasing to the ear, but anyone who knows anything about how albums are recorded will notice the cheap studio trick of recording double-tracked vocals with wide octave separation throughout the entire song, making the whole song seem like a chorus, and adding a sort of epic, powerful feeling. While it works well for the song, such abuse of studio tricks will create many unhappy concert-goers who expect the same level of performance that they are accustomed to on the record.
Listeners will quickly discover just how misplaced the studio trick is, though, when the song arrives at the chorus, erupting into an incoherency that can only be described as emo-babble. It is uncertain what kind of listener can understand, let alone identify with, such lyrics as "No I know I won't forget you / But I'll forget myself if the city will forgive me."
Just as anyone with taste in poetry will have a qualm with the album, so will listeners with rhythmic instincts. The album begins with a simple, robotic beat with minimal variations. Listeners have a false hope as "Forget Myself" introduces a seemingly complex beat, but, disappointingly, these beats are looped and unchanging, creating the same feel that exists in hip-hop. It is not a good sign when best examples of creative percussion exist solely in the songs in which percussion is toned down, such as "The Stops."
The most rhythmically intricate song is probably "Mexican Standoff," but it seems like the vocals do all they can to cancel out any creativity. Going at a pace of one syllable per beat, the singer does everything he can to put the listener back to sleep. At other points, such as in the title track, the beats are deceptively pleasing. After paying close attention though, one discovers the childish shuffle, the Randy Newman-esque logic that assumes minimal musical intelligence on the part of the audience. Though it seems like most critics have fallen into this trap, others will certainly be insulted by this condescending motif.
If anything good is to be said on behalf of the album, most of the credit goes to the guitars. Although the same few chords are repeated and dwelled upon, they are mixed together masterfully, at times making up for the rhythmic vacuum that was left by the drums. The guitar harmonies are so logical at times that the parts seem to be written for a symphony, as it is in "Station Approach." It also mixes well with the introduction of a piano as the album dwindles in the final few tracks, finally putting the listener to sleep, or out of his misery, depending on your point of view.
Some people might find it impressive that Elbow could follow up their hit album "Cast of Thousands" so quickly, but after listening to "Leaders of the Free World," it seems as if ten out of the eleven boring songs were all written in one sitting. When a song ran out of lyrics, they would simply repeat verses until the song reached good four or five minutes in length. Thus Elbow has created a solidly and consistently mediocre collection, and yet somehow has generated a frenzy of positive press. Generic Britpop is a truly powerful thing.
