Pop music seems to be most fulfilling when it is able to convey the gravity of human desire and disappointment; if youthful confusion and self-doubt are a part of it, so much the better.
But few bands in recent years have been able to articulate this torrent of emotions with any sort of genuine sensitivity. Rather, we've endured a decade and a half's worth of sullen indie rock, whiney emo, and clumsy nu-metal. Even as an exhilarating new music scene unfolded in New York, one which seemed to draw on decidedly more complex and sophisticated influences, there was a gaping hole of bands that relied more on grace than abrasiveness.
Then, in the fall of 2001, amidst all the hype and fanfare in New York, Argentine singer Diego Garcia allied himself with drummer Kevin McAdams and a guitarist that simply goes by the name Mod, and just such a band, Elefant, was born. Bassist Jeff Berrall was enlisted shortly after, and the lineup was completed. Certain fashionable post-punk influences clearly seemed to inform their music. But Elefant were a band apart from their New York comrades, many of whom were mining much more morose musical territory and flirting with anarchic imagery. Elefant, rather, were melancholy but romantic, dark but seductive.