Elite Gymnastics: "So Close to Paradise"

Jumping onto Elite Gymnastic’s Tumblr, ravenous at the promise of free downloads, I was immediately certain that I was going to love whatever was lurking behind the downright superb cover art and liner notes displayed on the front page.

Is it still widely accepted that it isn’t fair to judge a book by its cover? If so, does that conventional wisdom automatically lend itself to records, too? I’d be quick to offer that audio recordings, borne of a much more visually-oriented and multimedia-obsessed society, are not only exempt from that idea, but through their decided partnership with visual elements over the decades are, in fact, totally inviting of this kind of flippancy.

The dark, careening electronica that this Minneapolis duo serves up may not deserve such shortsighted analysis, but I’ve got a good feeling they’ve already thought about it and done their best to present something very well-crafted in the face of it, and that tendency is what helps make the band feel like a perfect example of the hypermodern musical psyche. The circular Elite Gymnastics brand, a cross between a mid-‘80s surf company logo and a classic manga stamp, somehow made me think not so much that I knew exactly what was coming, but that I knew at least enough about it to want to agree with it when it showed up. Our considerations are really tied into this sort of thing, if only subconsciously, and in thoughtfully manipulating these tendencies, Elite Gymnastics can be said to not only approach their sound in a skillful demonstration of modern techniques and contexts, but to also approach the idea of the communication of that sound through other media in as skillful and relevant a fashion. It’s true, most musicians are their own PR teams these days, and I think the demonstrated attitudes toward these aspects of multimedia personality and the DIY dynamic go a long way in defining context.

I’m willing to bet that, in judging this record by its cover, you won’t find a lot of terrible missteps or surprises, for better or worse. The song references a lot of historically leftfield electronic-oriented styles without sacrificing catchiness, finding its “otherness” in dark synth textures and distant vocals instead of through twisting or eschewing the pop form. Heavy synthesizer pads snake with a somnambulist’s reckless, minor-key march through heavy late-‘80s/early-‘90s rave-style drum loops before opening the curtains on a repetitious vocal refrain and sinking into blissful static. There’s a decidedly cut-and-run feeling to it all, a feeling of intense forward motion settling into a general anti-gravity inertia that leaves all of the unnecessary bits behind for the sake of advantageous aerodynamics.

For electronica, there’s a very decidedly punk dynamic at work. Opting to turn the lights down low and the drum tracks up, Elite Gymnastics put forth a sort of sentimental post-industrial sound, something that isn’t at all unfamiliar with the past but makes a statement that’s ready for the future, despite whatever unexpected or unreasonable considerations decide to creep in while we’re having our midnight rave-athon.