![]() |
||
|
Elkhorn: Lionfish A curious backstory informs Lionfish, the latest offering from Elkhorn guitar duo Jesse Sheppard (acoustic) and Drew Gardner (electric). While scuba diving in Belize last fall, the latter, we're told, was injected in the tip of his right finger by a lionfish, a gloriously plumed creature whose eighteen hypodermic spines contain neurotoxic venom. Returning from the trip accompanied by venom samples, he shared them with his twelve-string, finger-pickering partner, who, brought up by a psycho-pharmacologist father and armed with knowledge of the proper preparation and testing of psychoactive drugs, proceeded to refine the venom into a powdered form. After experimenting with different dosages, the two injested two enormous lionfish lines (from a mirror surface adorned, fittingly, by a silkscreen image of Bill Kreutzmann) late in the evening on December 2nd, 2017 and then, comfortably ensconced at the band's Sharktooth studio in New York City, laid down the two long-form improvs featured on the thirty-six-minute release. In “Lion,” a trippy ‘60s vibe establishes itself right away with the rustle of assorted hand bells, after which Sheppard's musings surface, first as sparse strums and eventually fleet picking. Having set aside the percussion, Gardner turns his attention to guitar with echoing figures that nicely dovetail with the acoustic. His electric grows rather more aggressive during the ride's second half, though never so heavy things go off the rails; if anything, the duo exercises a remarkable degree of control as this relaxed and sometimes meandering exploration unfolds, and a pleasing symmetry emerges through the re-introduction of hand percussion during the closing minutes. With both guitars spiritedly engaged from the first moment, the spirit quickly takes hold in “Fish,” Gardner extemporizing at length with Sheppard an insistent prod. Halfway through, the tempo slows, leading to an extended exploration that sees his bright-eyed acoustic assume more prominence as Gardner focuses on raw smolder. Determinations of foreground and background are repeatedly upturned during these performances when the two intertwine with an ease and naturalness that comes from many hours spent in one another's company. If you're of a certain age, these loosely structured jams might call to mind bands like Spirit, Iron Butterfly, and The Grateful Dead, other outfits with propensities for sprawling, chemical-enhanced space travels. Elkhorn's side-long pieces have the free-floating feel of live jams, yet they possess a structural form that prevents them from seeming directionless. Even if the pathways the two followed were spontaneous, the settings nonetheless feel as if pre-planned routes were adopted, each epic a little dazed, perhaps, but confused, hardly.July 2018 |