Consuming the Tangible

It happens, although it feels like it’s been happening more and more recently. You want music to click, to stitch the disparate parts of you together, make meaning from the shifting bundle of nerves. And…it doesn’t click. Or at least doesn’t leave the impact you expect. For whatever reason you walk away the same as before, those connections left dangling or connected to dead ends. It happens, and that’s not a knock against Elf Freedom, the L.A. psych collective whose Solstice received an album art upgrade as well as shift to vinyl from its original digital/cassette-only configuration. The music is solid, the vocals ethereal and perfect for the hazy, flowing vibe the band puts out into the ether. What is it that holds it at arm’s length?

Right off the bat, the change in cover is a huge plus. This is what the album used to look like, and although I respect the commitment to a visual theme, this one is better left in the dirt. Over the course of five tracks, there’s a sinewy chill that comes across Solstice, and a thick reverb that blankets the entire sound in a muffled warmth, complementing the vibe the collective reaches for. Of special note are the vocals: Nora Keyes has a terrific delivery; her moans and syllable extensions make her voice as integral an instrument as the wah-cocked lead licks of guitarist Rocco Mirage, who, like most of Elf Freedom, takes on a host of different roles and instrumentation. There’s a repetition to a song like “Invisible Communication” that feels hypnotic, and both Keyes and Mirage intertwine their melodies in a delicious mix that winds its way through the song’s second half like a lounging tiger’s tail.

Am I convincing myself that Solstice is a better album than my initial assessment? That’s one of the reasons I continue to write here. As “Whispering Light” emerges I’m enjoying everything I’m hearing – the way bassist Bee Appleseed (these names are amazing) keeps a steady, constant pulse alive as the other instruments coalesce into a wailing mush. But I place it in the same category as opener “Treasure Underground” as a fine, if forgettable jam sequence that works better as background than foreground.

Sometimes though, that’s the intent. When it comes to psychedelic music, I want to sit and wash away with the music. Is it a contradiction to also want moments to grip, to hold onto? I get that with “Invisible Communication”, and the final full track “Our Souls The Same” although Keyes’s lyrics are almost indistinguishable from the miasma of instruments sewn together from the murky production. I’d urge anyone interested in this kind of music to check Elf Freedom out; they’re probably succeeding in precisely what they want to get out to listeners. I get it, and can get into it, but I think at this moment I’m looking for something just a little bit more in tune with my own conception and perception of what I want this music to do to me.

So I’ll listen, smile, and keep searching.