Phillipe Roberts
On earlier singles, Elbows burrowed deep into a curious niche. His electronic funk productions toyed with the kind of dime-store psychedelia employed by 90s Beatles-obsessives The Olivia Tremor Control or The Apples in Stereo to chase down a similarly lysergically-tinted childhood wonderland. Samples of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, luxurious Fab Four harmonies sprinkled between seductive breakbeats, and the ever-present twinkle of electric keys painted a rosy, nostalgic landscape on last year’s Corduroy EP.
Heading into the January 26th release of his second collection, Sycamore, Elbows kicks off 2018 with “Windowpane,” knocking off that thrift-store dust with a gleaming slice of soulful dream pop, flexing production that’s spacious enough for his deeper grooves to really breathe. The barebones beat clears plenty of room for a host of glittering ornamentations: distant slivers of guitar, mushrooming clusters of bells, sonar sweeps of warbling synthesizer. Elements breathe into one another effortlessly, a technicolor haze pulling you into the kind of breezy, laid-back summer reverie that Elbows does best. The gear-shift changeup after the second chorus hits hard, crackling on the hi-hat before slamming into an 8-bit crescendo of sighing ooh’s and ahh’s that brings to mind the crisp Summer of Love nostalgia of the Mercury Rev-assisted “Colours” on The Avalanches’ Wildflower.
Bells and whistles aside, “Windowpane” also sees Elbows mastermind Max Schieble turning in his most confident performance yet behind the mic. He tries his hand at breathy raps, spitting out nostalgic tales teeming with microscopic details like “Cracks in the attic where the heirloom should be” to color in the holes in his memory, receding into his younger years. Elbows finds alien territory that feels cozy and familiar.