Elvis Depressedly (that is Delaney Mills, Mat Cothran and an assortment of friends) have something of a reputation for gloominess. Despite 2013’s Holo Pleasures pushing the melancholy in a comforting, relatable way, the notion persists that the band are despondent. Perhaps it’s the residual effect of Cothran’s former project Coma Cinema (who we like a lot), with releases named Stoned Alone and Blue Suicide, or maybe it’s the Elvis Depressedly moniker itself that invokes the emptiness of the American Dream. Whatever it is, it’s hardly fair. With their new album, New Alhambra, the band look to reassert their intentions and message.
New Alhambra is held together by a variety of samples, snippets of recordings that act as tiny, fervid interludes between the deadpan songs. From wrestling commentary to the title track’s televangelist, these clips are packed with half-remembered meaning, sharp, alluring passions which time has driven out of reach. The result appears to be indifference, the waves of agony and joy synchronising perfectly and flat-lined by destructive interference. For every wound avoided is a comfort missed, the roulette wheel of pleasure and pain thrown out in favour of a vague and nagging ache that no amount of distraction can overcome. The question is, do we accept this trade-off?
For me, this begins to get at the biggest misconception about Cothran’s songs. Many view his impassive style as the message of his music, the emotionless delivery sucking life from his poetic words, showing his deadened apathy toward a meaningless life etc., but really it’s the other way around. Cothran is challenging his numbness with his words, refusing to give in, attempting to break out as opposed to barricading himself in. Do we accept the trade-off? On New Alhambra, as typified by closing track ‘Wastes of Time’, Cothran says no:
“If you try I will try,
when we fuck up it’s alright,
there is always more to life,
than all these wastes of time.”
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When you take a second look you find the entire album illuminated in this way, light seeping through the cracks in the shadows. What first appear brief sparks are revealed to be points of a sustained blaze which guide you from the murk, like some form of celestial navigation for our age of smog and light pollution. Suddenly the samples begin to sound sincere, what was mistaken for an ironic smirk revealed to be the fragile, vulnerable smile of someone who doesn’t get much practice. The tables have turned 180°, no longer stark, bravely honest songs confronting darkness but rather straight-faced, easily-mockable hymns of the light. This is made clear on ‘N.M.S.S.’ (‘No More Sad Songs’), a song whose I initially assumed ironic that turned out to be an ode to the unshakeable faith of a better future:
“Someday never came so I keep waiting
I will go to sleep still believingNo more sad songs
I will serve no purpose
I love everyone that I have ever known.”
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This is not a born-again Love-The-World-Because-Life-Is-Great sort of album. Elvis Depressedly will not mend broken bones or cast out demons or have you walking across hot coals. Instead they say that afflictions are not all there is, that you are not defined solely by your circumstances. They say that peace and hope are never out of reach and offer an achievable version of optimism, one which does not require manic enthusiasm or God-like goodwill but instead a pinch of determination and a firm belief in love.
New Alhambra is out now on Run For Cover Records, including some rather lovely vinyl editions.
