The band names read like they were the product of a random phrase generator: Black Swan Network, Synthetic Flying Machine, Neutral Milk Hotel, Sunshine Fix, Dixie Blood Mustache, Marshmallow Coast. These were just a few of the acts that comprised the Elephant 6 collective.
It is difficult to define exactly what this organization was, though The Elephant 6 Recording Co. tries its best to do so. At least, it shows what it wasn’t. It wasn’t exactly a record label or, if it was, it was informal and short-lived in that capacity. They didn’t all live in the same house, though they were OK with media thinking they did. I’m not sure they were a movement, per se, but we get a brief glance of a paragraph that appears to be from some sort of manifesto.
There were certain key personnel who would appear in various capacities in each other’s bands, to the extent that band names appeared to be unnecessary. One person remarks that sometimes an opening act at a show would just trade instruments and go on as the top-billed band. Eventually, some bands sought to simply have the group’s psychedelic logo put on their records, without any other association.
Like so many other movements, poverty led to creativity: “Some of the best things happen when you’re poor and scraping by.” It’s no surprise illegal pharmaceuticals were another factor: “There definitely were some psychedelics involved.” There isn’t any tawdry material about sexual liaisons, and I was good with the absence of such tales. Still, it is interesting one song featured is titled “Song Against Sex”.
Much like The Residents, the story begins in rural Louisiana. There were some like-minded artists in the town of Ruston with shared interests, particularly in four-track recording. If there is anything that seems to be a thread running through this, it is the power of analog technology. There is much said in praise of tape hiss, even when tracks are bounced down more than most musicians would care for. In general, there seems to be a fear of recordings being too clean, of losing something magical and unique by employing professional studios. As the old adage goes, “Perfect is the enemy of good”.
The instigator of this collective is Robert Schneider, best known for his band The Apples in Stereo. Being a fan of them, that’s how I first became aware of Elephant 6, finding myself bewildered by their highly psychedelic logo on the back of a compact disc case.
He would relocate to Denver and establish an all-analog studio tellingly named Pet Sounds Studios. Despite being housed in a condemned building, he is credited with helping artists create fuller, grander sounds. Many of the artists associated with Elephant 6 would record there, especially best friend Bill Doss, who would relocate to Athens, Georgia, with his band Olivia Tremor Control.
Doss would die in 2012, so it is bittersweet to see footage of him here. I met him once at an Apples show when he was briefly in the band. In our short conversation, he struck me as polite and radiating intelligence.
The same goes for Schneider, who I exchanged a few words with then and after another concert. He’s definitely intelligent, as he is currently a mathematics professor. He actually invented a new musical scale, though that isn’t covered in this documentary.
But the largest part of the runtime is devoted to the act which will draw most people to watch this film, and that is Neutral Milk Hotel. Their album In The Aeroplane Over The Sea has only increased in stature over the past couple of decades, to the extent I keep expecting actual cults to form around it. If anybody ever reads this piece, I’m sure what I’m about to say will be where they stop reading it. I am baffled by the fervor for this work (really, I hate this album), and this film did nothing to improve my opinion of it.
In case you’re curious as to why I feel this way, a line in the 33 1/3 series entry about it captures the smugness I associate with it, and which keeps me at arm’s length: “If Anne Frank had lived, what would be her favorite pop song?” I nearly tore that book in half when I read that. I know this doesn’t have anything to do with the movie at hand, but I thought I should elaborate a bit when expressing such a controversial opinion.
Still, I greatly enjoyed this documentary and I believe it is the best this story could be told in roughly 90 minutes. I was disappointed there weren’t any extra features on the DVD, as I would have been happy to see some music videos and short films. We only get intriguing glimpses of these in the course of the runtime.
Given all the focus on analog here, I found it ironic this is on DVD at all. But what I found even more ironic was, given the emphasis here on analog technology, it ends with footage of friends of Bill Doss finishing a posthumous Olivia Tremor Control album—using computers.
Dir: Chad Stockfleth
Documentary
Watched on Kino Lorber DVD