I’ve never met a person who isn’t at least a closet fan of the Cure’s great pop music moments. It’s almost impossible not to love songs like “Friday I’m in Love,” or “Boys Don’t Cry,” or, of course, “Just Like Heaven.” Each is a masterful pop achievement that combines the perfect mood of melancholic longing with appropriately sentimental lyrics. For all his gloom, Robert Smith can truly write a fun song when he wants to.
It’s virtually impossible to name any greater Cure aficionados in the music game right now than Elefant. Knowing this, they’re a band that’s easy to get excited about. They’re part of the ridiculously fertile indie scene in New York which has already spawned such giants as The Strokes and Interpol. Like their peers, Elefant’s sound is heavily steeped in new wave and post-punk aesthetics, and they also look to legends such as the Smiths and Joy Division for inspiration. But where Interpol tends to downplay the sunnier and happier pop hooks characteristic of their influences, Elefant unabashedly embraces them. Their debut effort, Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid, is a seamless and refreshingly catchy indie pop album.
Most of the traditional new wave ingredients are apparent from the record’s beginning. Front man Diego Garcia’s detached vocal delivery is instantly reminiscent of the Smith’s Morrissey, and almost every song is led by a pulsating and charmingly unsophisticated rhythm. The post-punk philosophy of expression through minimalism abounds on Sunlight. When taken alone, each guitar, bass, and synth line is defiantly simplistic and straightforward, yet collectively they forge Elefant’s compelling sound.
Sunlight begins with three songs representative of the band’s brand of quirky pop, but the album’s first highlight is the fourth track, “Bokkie,” which is propelled by a nasty growling bass line under a soaring melodic guitar hook that’s paired with a vintage analog-sounding synth line. The title track, “Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid,” could probably pass as an Interpol B-side, but it is redeemed by the haunting tone of desperation in Garcia’s voice; this gives the song a gripping honesty that is unmatched anywhere else on the album.
Elefant comes closest to imitating the Cure’s pop sensibilities on the final track on the album. “Ester” is a short, jangly guitar-driven song with appropriately sentimental lyrics to boot. It’s easy to identify with a singer who pleads, “And that night when I called you / I was being young. And the way I tried to win you / I was being young…”
Sunlight is not without its downsides, however. Garcia focuses all of his lyrical energy on detailing his pursuit of true love, but he usually doesn’t find a novel way to say what others have been saying for years. The sincerity of his delivery often balances the shallowness of his lyrics, but at times his words sound tedious and redundant. Elefant also nods to their influences so much that the album sometimes sounds like an update of ‘80s new wave and guitar pop rather than an original creation.
Still, if you’re interested in something new to satisfy that pesky “Just Like Heaven” fix, Elefant might just be exactly what you need.
