[Editor's Note: Elijah Jett is HN contributor Michael Todd. You can hear these songs live Saturday, Jan. 28 at Meadowlark Coffee and Espresso, 1624 South St. in Lincoln. The 6-11:30 p.m. show is a benefit for Omaha Nation Community Response Team, a nonprofit dedicated to promoting cultural change. The show also features Orion Walsh, Great American Desert and Chance Preston. More info here.]
by Cory Kibler
Elijah Jett's sound is elusive. It's not busy or indecisive or douchey — in fact, it's splendid and lovable. It's just all over the place. I would wager that reviewing Beck's records would be frustrating for the same reasons: Every time you thought you found a phrase to hang your hat on, or a theme that would encapsulate the whole experience, you'd find yourself ignoring some of the most important parts.
This Lincoln musician doesn't sound like Beck (or maybe everyone sounds like Beck, by default). Elijah Jett sounds like Michael Todd, the dude who is also Elijah Jett. (They are the same guy, and both go to the same Christmases.) To explain Coriolis, I'll start broadly, and work my way deeper.
Coriolis just about the most charming, endearing collection of wintry-type songs one could wrangle. Picture the holiday season, but don't picture any college football rival games. Picture that it's the late afternoon and all of the adults are sleeping, and a few turtlenecked whiteys take a bottle of wine, a ukulele, and some scented candles into the attic. There, they write a bunch of playful songs that might sound cute if they weren't so intricate and well-executed. There are some electronic beats here and there, but it's always organic, porch-style music, even with the big beats (free-range bump 'n grind). It's mostly Michael Todd, but it ends up sounding like a collaborative song-playing party of friends. There are a few guest vocalists, and he's got spoken word samples in there, and it all swirls together into one heartfelt expression. Coriolis is a pop-music collage, and the borders are seamless.
Some of my favorite songs on the disc are such catchy gems as "Building a Hole" and "Tried on all Accounts," and both latched themselves onto my brain whether I liked it or not. Though, I did like it. The standout track, "Pardon the Fanfare," is a sad, sweet little finger-picky job, which captures those sentiments — sweet, sad, as well as introspective, intelligent and all others that make hushed wintry folk ballads so fucking necessary, especially when it snows, Bro or Girl-Bro.
What's more, it's free to listen to, and free to
download, and there's no reason not to.
Cory Kibler grew up in Ventura, Calif., and Colorado Springs, Colo., before coming to Nebraska for college and graduate school in 2000. He has slowly transformed into a Nebraskan, which left a mess. He plays music as a solo artist and with The Sleepover. He helps run netlabel Mr. Furious Records with his friend C. Howie Howard. You can contact him at cory.kibler@gmail.com.
