Review: Drunk Elk - Pieces Of People We Have Known

“I like their old stuff better than their new stuff.”
Opinions on…

Drunk Elk – Pieces Of People We Have Known

Drunk Elk’s debut, “A Rainy Day Is The Soundtrack To Somebody Else’s Nightmare” (sic) was a superb record. The synth/bass/vocals trio made for startlingly creative results backed by a continual motif of darkness and isolation. For all intents and purposes, it was a lo-fi effort, with minimal production and packaging. Second time around these qualities remain largely intact, bar for the fact it comes in a jewel case instead of a zip-lock bag, but the focus of each song has slightly drifted. Gone is Samuel Acres and his beautiful synth tones, those which casted a backdrop for each song in an effort to highlight the dread of Dave Askew’s lyrics. Instead, electric guitar takes its place with Ben Mason – previously of the defunct but ever wonderful Que – who noodles and strums his place in the trio. It works, on some songs better then others, but it isn’t necessarily better or worse than the previous incarnation of Drunk Elk.

Three songs from the previous album have been rerecorded here with the new formation: the misspelled Quintesence, Shooting Star and Drunk Elk Theme (which is now titled Venison). The opening track, Quintesence, is far more subtle and downplayed than the original electronic-pop ‘ballad’. Both instruments are pushed to the back, Dave’s vocals taking central stage but instead of the crooning found on the original version, the vocals here – or at least in the first two-thirds of the track - sound almost flat in comparison. They are far less torn and damaged then in the original, a quality that made the music of Drunk Elk so compelling. Maybe it lacks the same pull without the synthesised backdrop to play against, but the lowly-mixed instruments and lacklustre vocal performance places it as an inferior version to the original.

In Take Me To The River Nymph, a song which sees Dave operate a louder vocal performance, does so to the extent that the low production value takes a hit for the worse. Sounding like the vocals were recorded one night through a Skype call, I’m still unsure if the sound is deliberate. I am sure, though, that the song appears compromised because of this element. The lo-fi production is purposely a part of the Drunk Elk aesthetic, and it works in many of the tracks. Amp hum is fine in the context of individual songs, but is distracting as it cuts and starts up again between song transitions, making the album feel almost disjointed in some parts. This isn’t to say the record isn’t cohesive – it is – but the stop/start nature of the extraneous amp hum reduces this vision. Simon Krause’s bass playing is as affective as ever – this is one man who knows how to craft a strong bass line. He still plays melody maker on this album and he does it well – the electric guitar is used as much to accent the bass as the synthesiser was used to accent the vocals in the old Elk format.
 
The songs themselves are what we’ve come to expect from the Elk. The addition of guitar in many of the new tracks is welcomed, leading to an overall heavier album in comparison to the first. In this same vein, the songs that feature the most melodic components are the revisited tracks. Amongst such a strident record, We Dance Late In Smiley Town is a veritable pop icon as the closing track, and is perhaps the highlight of this new bass/guitar combination. Dave’s lyrics still look at twisted dreams and dreary (in the greatest possible way) characters, which is ultimately reflective of the Drunk Elk sound. It is minimal, dark pop music; now there is just a guitar substituting the synthesiser. They are as much Hobart’s cult band now as they ever have been before.


Oh, and all the songs end the same.

(Originally written on March 24th 2010 elsewhere.)