Elf Power
Walking With The Beggar Boys

THE REVIEW

Such was my desperation in the face of this media blackout, a sort of induced coma, a de-baser, that I was compelled to review it nonetheless. As if the routine could make up for the lack. Now it's up to you to judge if my talking to imaginary pseudo de-baserians inside my head could be read as an act of extreme love or as the first step towards schizophrenia.

But let's leave the psychoanalysis of a reviewer and return to the music; I am indeed faced with an album already reserved for a spot among the top 10 of 2004: the recent (May 2004) "Walking With The Beggar Boys" by Elf Power. Antonio Sapio, aka Nick, might remember that at the time of "Yankee Foxtrot Hotel" we had a discussion on the alt. country, folk, indie, American alternative genre and the name Elf Power came up. He recommended "Dream in Sound" (then unknown to me, but now already ordered after the initiation with "Walking With The Beggar Boys") and I talked to him about the enthusiastic reviews I had read about the album I'm reviewing. It didn't end there, intrigued also by the fact that Michael Stipe listed them among his favorites, I bought it and today it is one with my stereo.

The album is short, no more than 35 minutes, but entirely successful, a perfect mix of electro-acoustic melody and power-pop explosiveness. It is ideal for the beautiful season, full-throttle folk smartly embellished with electro-psychedelic flashes. The equally successful lyrics are the bittersweet aftertaste of a sunny album, the ideal soundtrack for joyful and sunny moments.

A little Grandaddy and a little Pavement, a little Beach Boys and a little New Pornographers, Elf Power in their seventh attempt do not betray their supporters.
The album opens with the fast and biting "Never Believe," where it is not difficult to notice the difference with the aforementioned New Pornographers. It continues on the same high levels with "Walking With The Beggar Boys," distorted guitars and electronics accompanying an obsessive-psychedelic text, a duet between Andrew Rieger's voice and an unlikely chorus, with completely nonsensical lyrics; the best Beckett would pale. A true value added is the moving "The Stranger." Two minutes of acoustic ballad sweetened by the cello, showcasing all the grace and elegance of Rieger as a songwriter. This might be enough, but the problem is that there's not a track under 4 stars.

Unmissable for lovers of the genre but also a great introductory album to American Indie!