The Elected, Sun, Sun, Sun

I’m relatively ignorant of Rilo Kiley, Elected frontman Blake Sennett’s “day job” band. Hard to believe, I know, given the amount of RK-love currently floating around out there, but I think I’ve actually heard more of Sennett’s The Elected than I have the other band. And right now, I’m pretty glad for it, because it lets me listen to The Elected’s Sun, Sun, Sun without the raft of preconceptions that would otherwise be tagging along.

So, while I haven’t a clue what fans of More Adventurous are going to make of this, I can say that from an outsider’s viewpoint, Sun, Sun, Sun is simply a freakin’ brilliant gem of an album. Sennett (along with co-producer/occasional co-writer Mike Bloom) has continued to grow in leaps and bounds as a songwriter on this release, crafting some of the most effortlessly beautiful songs I’ve heard in quite a while. For a large part of the album, he aims for the same countryish vein the band dug into on 2003’s Me First, but this time out he ups the ante by also taking on the mantle of a ’60s-inspired soul crooner on several tracks, a shift that works better than I’d guessed it could. In the hands of a lesser musician/singer, the smooth horns-and-organ soul raveup of “Did Me Good” would come off as supremely hipster-ironic (and therefore worth forgetting about completely after the obligatory sly indie chuckling), but here it sounds like honest, heartfelt love of the music, right down to the James Brown-style “testifying” in the break.

This isn’t to say that the only songs on here worth hearing are the handful of soul-inspired tracks, mind you. From opener “Clouds Parting,” a soaring, swooping orchestral intro that’d make The Polyphonic Spree blush, onward, the whole album rolls along nicely, first straight into the jangly, desperately sweet country-pop of “Would You Come With Me.” After that, there’s “Fireflies in a Steel Mill,” which is exuberant and melancholy at the same time, with a sunshiny sound like the best AM radio songs you remember from your childhood (if you’re my age, at least), the sappy, repetitive, yet still endearing “It Was Love” (a duet with Kiley’s Jenny Lewis, and a track that reminds me of The Pogues at points), the chiming, measured prettiness of “Beautiful Rainbow,” and the delicately folky, Bright Eyes-esque title track.

I’ve tried to intentionally downplay the Conor Oberst comparisons, by the by, but I figure I probably ought to get ’em out of the way and be done with it. I have to admit that when I first heard the songs on Sun, Sun, Sun shuffle through my iPod’s headphones, I could’ve sworn they were tracks from some long-lost Bright Eyes album I hadn’t bothered to get. The smart, literate, sometimes self-referential lyricism, the strained, nearly whimpery vocals — I had to check twice to make sure I hadn’t hit the wrong button on the player. The Oberst comparisons don’t really hit the mark, however, because where Mr. Bright Eyes turns introspection into self-obsessive navel-gazing and seems to revel in the dark, dysfunctional side of the relationship coin, Sennett flips the whole thing over and looks forward hopefully and joyfully, with an blissfully unrepentant smile plastered all over his face.

If you want proof, just take a listen to Sun, Sun, Sun‘s two highlights, “Biggest Star” and “Not Going Home.” The former essentially closes out the album (the final track is actually “At Home (Time Unknown),” but it’s just a quick bit of jangle-pop that bookends the disc) with Sennett jumping feet-first back into soulful “shouter” mode. His voice gets more and more frenzied through the course of the song ’til he’s practically roaring — which comes as a bit of a shock, really, since his vocals everywhere else are so deceptively soft and gentle — and towards the end, the song even throws in some of the only real “rock” guitars on the album, sending the proceedings veering unexpectedly off into Pinkerton-era Weezer territory. It’s a heck of a way to end an album.

Then there’s “Not Going Home.” Although it doesn’t show up ’til four songs into the album, “Not Going Home” is where Sennett and company (assisted on this album by Jason Boesel on drums, Daniel Brummer on bass, and Mike Bloom on gorgeous lap steel and harmonica) really hit their stride. While the rest of the album is excellent, this track was the one that made me sit up and really start paying attention. The shimmering guitars, the understated keys, the fuzzed-out bass, the whispered harmony vocals — the whole thing’s just an absolutely perfect example of a well-put-together song.

And then, when the band hits the chorus, ah… I’m a cynic to the core, these days, but I’ll be damned if my heart doesn’t feel a bit lighter in my chest. The song’s a triumphant, defiant declaration of love, of finding home wherever the person you care about happens to be, and it’s one of the bravest, sweetest, least cynical songs I’ve ever heard. Taken as a whole, Sun, Sun, Sun is one of my favorite albums of 2006 so far, but even on its own, “Not Going Home” would be worth the price of admission.