Alright, so I'm lazy. I've been rocking out to The Elms' latest record for almost four months now, excited for the day when it's actually released in stores and I can encourage people to go out and buy the darn thing, and look what happens, the release date sneaks up in me, and still no review. Busy year, I guess. But no longer. I must tell you all about The Chess Hotel.

This disc is simply one of the most raw, no-nonsense, have-a-blast rock records ever to grace my ears. And by "rock", I don't mean post-modern, quadruple genre-spanning, weird-your-girlfriend-out experimental rock. (Not that there's anything wrong with that!) That stuff can be fun, too, but this is good old ROCK & ROLL. As in the classic stuff, which I'm not an expert on (among the influences cited are The Rolling Stones and The Who, as well as more contemporary acts such as The Strokes and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, all of which I know precious little about), but I can definitely say this much: Listening to this record is like living in a world where we've got all of the sound quality and recording capability of the year 2006, but virtually none of the superfluous studio machine trickery or influence from the musical trends of the 80's and onward. This is the raucous, primal, deep-in-your-gut type of rock music. And sure, we've got about a million bands, all who have names starting with "The", trying to bring us back to the basics these days. But The Elms are the band who, for me, has done that without sounding overly cocky or just downright crappy. This record kicks some serious tail, plain and simple.

I knew these Indiana boys had it in them all along. I first became a fan of theirs when they opened for Jars of Clay in concert back in 2002 - I had listened to their album The Big Surprise before that, but the amount of fire they showed in concert put that record to shame. It was glimpsed more readily on their second album, Truth, Soul, Rock & Roll, but large portions of that record were too subdued to live up to its name. There were also lyrical problems on both records - these guys could be really clever or even cryptic when they wanted to, but often, when tackling more traditional songs of encouragement (as bands signed to Christian labels are generally expected to do), the rock & roll train tended to get routed through cliche-ville. What these guys needed was the freedom to express themselves outside of that Christian music bubble, to sing about what they wanted and let their faith influence that more naturally.

What this means is that now, there are cautionary tales about being used and abused by so-called lovers, urgings to get the hell out of Dodge instead of acquiescing to a hopeless situation, witty swipes at false bravado, and sometimes even just plain old fun songs about rocking out and having a good old time. There's no "agenda"; this was just the stuff that was on their minds, and that's where I think the truest art comes from, even when it's not intended to be exceedingly deep or complex. There's no denying that this is the music they wanted to make - on past records, I always felt like a record executive was watching over them, saying, "OK, now settle down, boys", much to the band members' chagrin.

Honestly, everything about The Elms has improved with this record. Singer/lyricist Owen Thomas is free to not require a neatly tied-up spiritual meaning in most every song - heck, sometimes, he doesn't appear to mean anything that's easily grasped. I consider that a plus; always good to wrestle with interesting lyrics, so long as they don't sound stupid as they're being sung. And his singing has improved - he may have been easier on the ears on past records, but now, the guy can wail. And by that, I don't mean hit a thousand notes in one syllable like some wannabe from American Idol. I mean that this guy can shout and even scream with style, really punctuating the energy level of a song when called for. It's called for everywhere it's used on this record, thanks to the relentless presence of Owen's brother Chris Thomas on drums, and his childhood buddy Thom Daugherty, whose status as one of my favorite guitarists is cemented as he finally gets to lay some of his best work to tape on more than just two or three songs. (The guitars do just as much of the "singing" as Owen does, it seems.) New bassist Nathan Bennet also provides a solid backbone instead of just blending into the background like most bass players in rock bands would. There's a ballad or two, and even a few acoustic songs, which serve as a timely breather in the midst of the sweaty onslaught, but they don't bring down the record's momentum.

Perhaps there might be a few less interesting songs in there somewhere, which is why I can't award The Chess Hotel the full five stars, but those songs are still pretty good ones, unlike some of the filler that found its way into the back half of their previous albums. Seriously, I have no major complaints about this one. It does what a rock record should do - it entertains and lights up your stereo without patronizing or dumbing down to please a middle-of-the-road audience. You'll have to meet The Elms on their own terms here - though I don't think they're terribly difficult terms on which to meet.

I Am the World
I am the king, I'm the czar, I'm the pope
I'm your finest good deeds and your worst dirty jokes...
RAT-A-TAT-TAT! Chris's drums fire off an insistent, pounding rhythm as Nathan and Thom immediately get to work with a down-and-dirty riff, and Owen begins to excitedly proclaim himself to be a bunch of polar opposites and other assorted contradictions. It's a bizarre setup that leads to the brazen conclusion - "Baby, I am the world, and I'm YOURS!" Normally, one might view a rock song with such a statement as being a bit egocentric, but I think Owen is speaking from the point of view of, literally, the world. Some like to view it as inherently good, others inherently evil, but nope, you gotta take the good with the bad (but not without a kick-butt guitar solo worming its way into the middle - the first of many on this record). Cap it off with some excited shouts, the guitar going nuts, and a lot of cymbal crashing at the end of this brief rocker, and you've got the most punctuated start that The Elms have ever gotten off to (not that "Hey! Hey!" and "Speaking in Tongues" weren't a blast, but the level of gusto poured into this brief two-and-a-half minutes even tops those.)

Who Puts Rock & Roll in Your Blood?
We been shooting from a gun that was made for killing
Shooting from a gun that was made for killing
Shooting from a gun that was made for killing
Throw your weapon away!
Every rock band needs one of these - a straight-up "delcaration that we're here to rock the house" sort of song. Not surprisingly, The Elms' version of such a song goes for the cryptic approach, describing visions of "the greatness coming" and "the old man dying" in the verses, which admittedly might use repetition a little too much for their own good. The jerky rhythm of the song is fun despite that, with the drums clattering along to the flow of the words as the titular question is asked again and again. Obviously we know the answer to that question ("We put rock & roll in your blood!"), which might be a tad presumptuous, but it comes after a bit of smoldering electric guitar and even an amusingly acoustic version of the refrain before offering that final confident answer. I'll give 'em a pass here just because they strike the rock star pose so well.

Nothin' to Do with Love
There's a kid who was told
When you give, you get sold
So he says he wants nothin' to do with love...
For some reason, when I hear the drum backbeat, and bada$$ bass intro to this song, I think of Forrest Gump running through the jungle. (Don't ask.) Anyway, this throaty, sweaty little number appears to be about people who try to divorce sex from love, and the song's stance appears to be that it can't be done. "If you can never be true, it's got nothing' to do with love!", the guys confidently shout during the chorus. It's the third strong rocker in a row, and by now you should be getting the feel for the album - get in, make some noise, make your point, and get out. It's done while maintaining a distinctive riff or tone to each song, so I don't mind it at all, especially when the music and lyrics are this gutsy. Supposedly there's a video coming for this one that will make the Christian bookstores think twice about carrying this record... not that they're trying to shock their prior audience intentionally, but my guess is that visualizing a song like this, which is basically a big flashing hazard sign regarding flicker-and-burn-out relationships, might be a little on the PG-13 side by necessity. I can handle that; it's not like bands like this should be expected to make music for little kids.

Makes Good Sense
Well, it ain't a real vacation, but it's all that we got
I'll come out, and we'll go swimming where the water is hot
Yeah, we'll have a little summer, you'd never believe
I can help you make sense to me...
The band backs off for a slightly smoother song here - the guitars are still gritty and the band is still spirited, but for the first time, the emphasis is a little more on melody than force. Almost as if to contradict the previous song, this one comes across as a bit of a proposition (delivered with just a tinge of Southern sensibility) - you're lonely, I'm lonely, let's do the math, might as well bide our time by being together. It's possible I'm reading it wrong, but it seems like there's a group of four songs that serve as a bit of an arc, with the previous track serving as the warning, and then this track failing to heed the warning, and diving into a relationship that is destined to be short-lived. "My heart's the kind of broken that won't take much", Owen admits during the chorus, and his logic for why these two should be together is almost apologetic, as if he's saying, "Well, you got any better ideas?"

I Left My Body and Never Came Back
I brought an open heart and a big bouquet
The perfect gift for a summer day
You never know when you'll become a man
I left that flower and never came back...
Now there's an amusing song title if I ever saw one. As it turns out, this is the first down-tempo moment for the band on this record, and one of the most understated ones as well. Truth be told, it's a bit of an odd fit amidst the songs that tower over it, with the drums carefully ambling along and the electric guitar wearily grumbling along with the verses, popping out every now and then to offer a spirited lick or two. Owen tells the tale of someone (perhaps himself) as a young boy longing/lusting after a girl, viewing an opportunity to be with her as a sort of out-of-body experience. Does he want her, though, or does he just have something to prove to himself or his fellow men? And does he go through with his plan to win her over? That all depends on your interpretation of what he means when he quietly muses, "I left that flower and never came back." There are some weird ringing bells or something in there at one point to help fill the instrumental void - I can't help but think that this song needs to have a little more instrumentation to it, but oh well.

She's Cold!
She's a vulture in a land of fire
She picks and she chews
And she's hungry for news to spread...
And here comes the ugly breakup. Over a jaunty, jerky, 6/8 rhythm, the band sets things ablaze again as Owen croons and moans about a girl who's out to do nothing other than break hearts. This is the one songs that Owen and Thom appear to have co-written (with Owen going solo for all of the others), and not that ample space for Thom's guitar heroics wasn't left elsewhere, but this one just seems made for him to caress and texture with his jagged, almost bluesy riffing. It probably won't be your girlfriend's favorite song (unless Irina Derevko from Alias is her hero or something), but it's great fun all the same.

The Chess Hotel
Well, there's Rachel down in room 103
Had her second child at seventeen
She's got every day to figure out
How the babies gonna do without...
Another urgent drum intro smacks us upside the head, settling into a slower tempo, but not compromising at all on the volume level as the record launches into its biggest shout-fest. "In my town there's a piece of hell!" Owen screams, warning us about the seedy side of town, where the down-and-out who have given up on their dreams go to stay. The shouting and histrionics are simply there because of the desperate situation - one which there's no excuse for, and for which there's no cute catch phrase to make it all OK. This song is basically a kick in the butt to tell us to get the hell out of there. It's funny, because Owen seems like such an upbeat, easygoing, even comical guy, just listen to him scream "THE CHESS HOTEEEEEEEEEL!!!" a few times at the end of this song, and you'll be wondering if this is the same guy who once sang "Real Men Cry". (I do still like that song, by the way.) This is the voice of a man who has finally earned those exclamation points that he likes to use in his song titles.

Bring Me Your Tea
I don't get no opinion with four mouths to feed
I'd sell off my future to get what we need...
Nothing like a brief, random acoustic interlude to throw the audience for a loop. This one's got a bit of a front-porch vibe to it, with the drums taking a break, replaced by what sounds like tambourines and maybe a little stomping or handclapping. Owen is once again at his most enigmatic, sounding slightly muffled as he muses about working hard in the scorching heat and needing someone to bring him tea. Whatever he's working for, it sounds like something that he's sold his soul to and isn't very happy about. The song does its thing and then quits after about a minute and a half - I'd have loved an extended acoustic guitar solo or something, but oh well, it's still a well-placed breather from the heavier stuff.

The Way I Will
God, if I'd only have thought, then she'd wear my name
Shame how you look when you fail, and babe, I look that way...
We start off with nothing but drums and cymbals here, before some subtle guitar licks come in a few seconds later - I like how some of these songs get so easily established by percussion alone. (It's interesting what a band can do to make their songs stand out with only their basic instruments to rely on) This one's another breakup song of sorts, but it's probably a phase for before the outright rejection found in "She's Cold!" - here, the guy is almost trying to convince the girl to stick around, because he's better than the guy she's leaving him for. This gets turned around in the second verse, a subtle but effective plea to God for help, and an admission that if he'd kept his priorities straight, he'd have realized that the girl would never love him the way God will. (A bit cheesy when you put it the way I did, but it sounds more easily digestable in the actual song.) While there might be some odd lines here ("He won't love your mother like the way I will"?!?!), and the song comes this close to being arrogant if you don't catch the God thing going on in verse two, it's fun enough as a good sing-along with teeth.

The Downtown King
He smokes on a clove and he sits in a ride
That's got room for himself and a girl on the side
He'll polish his shoes so he can look down and see
The reflection of him - the reflection is me, oh no!
Here's my personal favorite track on the record - a bumpy ride of a song that rolls and crashes along on a jagged guitar riff as the guys pay their mock respects to a guy who is pretty much a complete anal cavity. He thinks only of himself, lives to prove his high stature to others, and does all sorts of other little impish things to remind people - even his dates and the people he goes to church with - how insignificant they really are to him. Yet he commands respect from some folks, apparently, because he's "got the sound of the downtown rhythm", whatever that means. For all, I know, it could be a moment of brutal self-reflection, as Owen admits at one point that this guy's reflection appears to be his own - whoops! Interestingly, while the fast and dirty guitar playing is one of my favorite instrumental highlights on this record, this song doesn't appear to have a guitar solo per se - the genius is in how the whole band manages to keep it together so tightly, and yet sound so loose and free-wheeling.

Black Peach
Bold as the daylight, shooting off your mouth
You laugh like a belle, but you've never been south
Walking like a cowboy, kissing like a flame
You'll let him in your heart, but he'll never get your name...
The Elms aren't really Southern (they're from Indiana), but if you want to evoke the South, just mention peaches, and use that sassy guitar tone that Thom's got going on, and you'll sound a lot more convincingly Southern than Third Day has in about six years. This song resembles "Makes Good Sense" in terms of its construction - more easygoing than sweaty, and more about wooing a girl than about rocking out. The problem is that the girl being wooed just slips through the guy's fingers. She knows she's got a certain charm and she just keeps on using it to work the crowd. It's a bit of an identity crisis, as she's likely from just as far north as these guys are, and Owen can see right through her act, which is why I guess she's "almost sweet". The attitude is more fun than condemning, with its upbeat tempo and its incredibly sweet guitar solo, but still Owen seems to be acknowledging that he'll play the girl's game for now even though he knows she can't keep it up forever.

The Towers and the Trains
We got issues from all the misuse
We got wasted youth and missing persons
Who've got nothing left to do but age...
This one came in a close second when I ranked my favorite tracks from this album. It's unlike anything else The Elms have done, even on this album - it's based on a slow guitar groove that consists of nothing other than a single, quiet, undistorted chord per beat at the outset, until the band later comes along to fill it in. It's the one exception to the "Make your point in three-and-a-half minutes or less" rule employed by most of the album, sprawling out beyond the five-minute mark as Owen sings of a sad hick town in the middle of nowhere, kind of the country equivalent of "The Chess Hotel", where folks basically sit around and get old because they can't envision a life beyond the city limits. The answer to that question of "How will I survive?" is never offered, perhaps because it's a bad question in the first place, looking only to maintain one's existence and never to really do anything useful with it. Things get busier as the song progresses - the guitars get snarlier and the drums clatter along in triplets (there's one amusing moment in the second verse where the band throws a fit for all of two seconds at the line "they sit on their porches"). And yet there's a redemptive feeling to it as well, signaled by the lush acoustic refrain that breaks in here and there, as if to represent the rain that washes the rust and dirt from those aging towers and trains. My favorite thing about this song (well, other than the way Owen breaks out the falsetto voice that we haven't heard since "Come to Me" on the last record) is Chris's drum solo that takes the song home after the rest of the band has called it quits - I always get a vision of seeing these guys play the song in concert, and Chris deftly slamming his sticks back and forth across the breadth of his kit, eyes wide with excitement, as if he can't believe the spotlight is finally his. (I still say the guy reminds me of Samwise Gamgee from Lord of the Rings.)

I've Been Wrong
I got a house on the border
I got shoes made of leather
I got a robe made of velvet
I got a bed made of feather...
Way to go, guys, you totally wore out your drummer and bass player with that last one. So, the only thing left to do is finish up the record with an intimate acoustic song. Hey, don't worry, it's not another "Smile at Life Again". This one's actually quieter and simpler, with little more than two or three chords to it and an extremely sparse feel, but the lyrics are much smarter, with Owen coming clean about having put his own wants ahead of the needs of others. Perhaps that's the solution, or at least the beginning of one, as far as these lonely aging towns and run-down hotels are concerned: "If you've been freezing while I've been sleeping, then I've been wrong, and for that I'm weeping." Funny that such a strong rock record would trail off so quietly, but the sentiment expressed here is still a strong one.

Hidden away after "I've Been Wrong" are two more acoustic tracks, performed live - versions of "I Am the World" and "Black Peach" that don't sound fully complete without a rhythm section, but give an interesting glimpse into the songs as they were being worked out and tested on the road. This was probably a bonus thrown in to help convince people to buy the record after it leaked nearly four months early. Shoot, I'd have bought an entire EP of this sort of thing, just because I love hearing what happens when noisy electric bands are stripped down to the unplugged basics (even then, in the case of The Elms, the guitar riffs and melodic hooks are still strong).

And that's a wrap. Chalk up one successful crossover for a band who perhaps wasn't fully understood, or allowed the chance to shine, within the bubble of an industry where it got started. Going "mainstream" is often the kiss of death for bands, in terms of critical viability, but The Elms have gone the other way on that one, making their sound a whole lot more exciting and writing lyrics that are urgent without pandering or stating the obvious in terms we've heard ten thousand times before. It's a tribute to some of the oldest tricks in the rock playbook, and yet it's uniquely them, and it's because that personality comes through so readily that I find it so refreshing. As for as I'm concerned, this one and Mute Math's new record currently stand as the albums to beat for 2006.

ALBUM WORTH:
I Am the World $2
Who Puts Rock & Roll in Your Blood? $1
Nothin' to Do with Love $1.50
Makes Good Sense $1
I Left My Body and Never Came Back $.50
She's Cold! $1.50
The Chess Hotel $2
Bring Me Your Tea $1
The Way I Will $1
The Downtown King $2
Black Peach $1.50
The Towers and the Trains $2
I've Been Wrong $1
I Am the World (live acoustic) $.50
Black Peach (live acoustic) $.50
TOTAL: $19

Band Members:
Owen Thomas: Lead vocals, guitar
Thom Daugherty: Lead guitar, backing vocals
Chris Thomas: Drums, backing vocals
Nathan Bennet: Bass, backing vocals

Websites:
http://www.theelms.net
http://www.myspace.com/theelms

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: Driving