'Picture yourself on a boat on a river. With tangerine trees and marmalade skies.' Canadian rockers Elephant Stone have certainly done just that on more than a few occasions down the years. Locked almosy entirely forever in the Summer months of 1967 *, a cursory listen to one of their records is like bumping into a bunch of Hari Krishna devotees sashaying down your high street on a gorgeous sunny Saturday afternoon. Or else watching the opening sequence of the first Austin Powers where he starts doing cartwheels down Carnaby Street one more time.
Busting a lung to re-capture a moment that is now so far long gone, and only lasted a few months anyway, is a slightly odd thing to want to do, but it doesn't make Elephant Stone's records any less likeable or infectious. Latest album, Hollow, their sixth in all, is no exception. Attempting to encapsulate the lysergic energy of the original dawn of the Age Of Aquarius could fall flat if played for laughs or as pastiche. It certainly doesn't here because the vibe is obviously so sincere and the songs are so damned good.
All proper cults need a leader, and in Elephant Stone the guru is Rishi Dhir, who is blessed with very George like vocal tones as well as doubling on sitar and bass. I'm not well enough acquainted with the band's previous albums to know where this sits within their canon but that's neither here nor there, Hollow is just fine and dandy in itself.
It's abundantly clear that the Psychedelicised Beatles of Pepper, Magical Mystery Tour and Yellow Submarine is the well Dhir and his pals go to whenever they really need to quench their thirst. I have no problem with that and they do a damned fine act of aural osmosis here. Hollow has a celestial psychedelic choir ringing in its ears and its not difficult to imagine George Martin nodding his head in approval at the console.Top marks all round.
* Though there is a very odd moment in track 3 when they go strangely 1972 Prog for a few moments
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