by Alex Whitelaw
Mr. Elevator have never shied away from their 60’s psychedelic influences, in fact they often wear those influences proudly on their paisley patterned sleeves. While there are a number of bands who do the same, Mr. Elevator always seem to stand apart from their contemporaries, a fact that is partly due to their musical prowess (watch any of their “Jam in the Van[s]”, seriously, do it) and partly due to their willingness to reinvent themselves while continuously re-committing to their genre. Their new album Goodbye, Blue Sky is an acid soaked voyage to the distant cosmos. It is sonically ambitious and rewarding. They’ve moved far beyond the garage pop sensibilities of Nico...and her Psychedelic Subconscious into a universe of dark atmospheric swells, lush vocals, and larger than life synth and organ arrangements. Goodbye, Blue Sky is a captivating, somber, and atmospheric trip that invites you to get lost in its massive expanse.
The album opens with the creepy-cool synth driven instrumental “Waiting,” a song that is all at once relaxing and ominous. “Love Again” oozes into existence, balancing between dream and reality, delivering subdued vocal lines between cinematic orchestral instrumental breaks (it often feels like a score from a Kubrick film). Its follow up, “Alone Together,” is a tightly performed bop that grooves through a forest of flutes and exacting drum fills. “Sylvia” sounds like a comet hurtling towards some unsuspecting planet before shifting into a kaleidoscopic lament. The song “Anywhere” delivers sonically captivating grooves; it’s all at once melodically clear and texturally abundant, with whispered melody lines floating just above fairy-tale synths. The album’s closer, “Patterns,” is a hauntingly beautiful sci-fi expedition. The lead organ line shifts between meditative and foreboding. It sounds like some ancient prediction of what future music will sound like, while simultaneously having the effect of an alarm on a spaceship letting the crew know that all is lost.
Goodbye, Blue Sky is an album to be wholly consumed; it is meant to be lost in. It invites you to fade into it until the lines of your hands become blurry and you feel like you're floating amongst the clouds on the cover. It is a wildly impressive album for both its scope and its execution. You would be forgiven for finding it in the record store and thinking it was some lost gem from decades past. You can imagine some current artist pulling it from their collection on “What’s in my Bag” and beaming that they were able to find it, comparing it to In the Court of the Crimson King or Dark Side of the Moon. It is an album that is all at once timeless and current. It calls for a moment to slow down in a world that is often racing faster and faster towards some untimely end.