Imagine if you will, a world where the most turgid, dense, and incomprehensible Yes songs were haphazardly sewn back together and returned to life by Doctor Frankenstein. A world where Pink Floyd music is played by gothlets from the seventh grade band under the tutelage of a teacher who pops Lortabs like M&Ms. A world where people look to pretty pieces of silicon dioxide for healing and wisdom.
Welcome to the wonderful world of Elevator Through.
Oh Jesus, but do these goofs ever take themselves seriously! Why, I can’t imagine. The “music” on this CD is so bad you can’t believe it. And exactly HOW bad might that be, I hear you ask? Let’s just leave it at this: a piece of crud on the CD caused it to start into that weird noise CDs make when the little laser light gets lost, and it took me a good half a minute to realize that fact, and it wasn’t ’til I examined the track timer and saw that it was hung up somewhere around three minutes and not going anywhere before I actually turned the damn thing off, cleaned it, and put it back in. No lie.
Masochist that I am.
Sub Pop Records, 1932 First Ave., Suite 1103, Seattle, WA 98101; http://www.subpop.com