Conceived as some sort of mini-opera, you can think instead
of Philadelphian Yamagata’s bunch of dramas as musky dusted soap opera cut
through the viciousness of PJ Harvey tackling Ricki Lee Jones Volcano period.
With Bright Eyes producer Mike Mogis along for the bumpy,
lush rude, Yamagata’s
smoked almond smolder is emboldened, hurtful, hurt and all the things that you
can think go with a pained break-up. She takes her time ripping old wounds and
old loves – the “Don’t fuck me in front of me” of “Don’t”;
the arched-back ache of “Sunday Afternoon” – without allowing it to
take her down. Elephants is a fighter
and a biter; a hushed morose chamber thing that got slapped and snapped back
with the teeth to rock out with angular fuzz tone guitars and filth encrusted
drums as if she’s never cleaned them after the bust-up.
Really really lovely and fucked-up is this record.
Standout Tracks: “Don’t,”
“Elephants” A.D. AMOROSI