Not to be confused with semi-forgotten Aussie no-wavers The Mood Elevators, Detroit's on-off THE MOOD ELEVATOR were actually a US power-pop supergroup of sorts featuring the all-singing, all-playing, all-writing talents of Chris Plum and his famous high-school chum Brendan Benson.
Having worked together on occasion since their early days in Detroit's Royal Oak suburb, Plum and Benson initially hooked up to make the first Mood Elevator record ('Listen Up!') back in 1999, three years before the critical furore surrounding Benson's 'Lapalco' album catapulted him into the wider public consciousness. Since then, of course, Benson has also been instrumental in unleashing The Raconteurs with Jack White (one or two of you might have heard of him as well) while Chris Plum has gone along in his smaller, but still critically-acclaimed way with Chris Plum & The Administration, who also feature guitarist Zach Shipps (AKA Electric Six guitarist The Colonel) and Mood Elevator bassist Eric Pott. Strewth - and I had thought Liverpool's music scene was incestuous.
Anyway, somewhere along the way, The Mood Elevator made a second album called 'Married Alive'. Originally released in 2003, in the wake of 'Lapalco', it's arguably true that it could have been referred to as 'eagerly-anticpated' or one of the usual biz cliches trotted out when a record is released featuring someone getting the NME hot under the collar. Benson and Plum's respective schedules have since ensured that it would be the second and last ME record, but if so (and bear in mind we live in a reform-happy world these days) it ought to be remembered as a cool record in its' own right and one which at least buys the band's reputation a decent headstone.
As you'd probably expect, much of 'Married Alive' is cut from the reliable, quality-first US power pop tapestry. Opener 'Boycott' is hip-shakin' and raunchy of riff and hardly a million miles from either Cheap Trick or (surprise surprise) The Raconteurs themselves. It's mighty fine, though, as is its' successor 'Watch Your Girl', which temporarily wrong-foots you with its' vaudeville piano intro before more traditional spunky, overcharged Detroit-ian rifferama kicks in and the song succumbs to a great, anthemic chorus and handclaps from heaven.
Throw in another couple of the album's initial brace of tunes (not least the strident and kooked 'Guilty' where Benson proves for the first of several occasions that there's a frustrated Keith Moon dying to get out) and you might get the impression that 'Married Alive' is about nothing but shooting from the hip and connecting at crotch level. But such a prognosis proves a little premature as there are enough quirks and idiosyncracies in Plum and Benson's songs to suggest they enjoy(ed) playing off their natural melodicism against a gleeful desire to both experiment and let the weirdness hang out when they could/ can get away with it.
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If you don't believe me, make straight for the chromatic, off-kilter likes of tunes like Plum's impressive 'Anglophile' or 'Life Line' which manages to cram gentle acousticism, swoony Beach Boys harmonies and an intricate little guitar solo from Benson into 1 minute 30. A cameo, maybe, but an extremely impressive one, as is the oddly plaintive 'Everything's In Place' which - with its' 'Strawberry Fields' mellotron and simple drumming - can realistically be described as 'Beatloid, even if its' lyric (sample: "everything in its' place/ anything in my life that takes up space") sounds like it's derived from a self-help manual. Arguably even more quixotic is the closing (almost) title track, 'At The Wedding' where Plum vividly describes the course of a relationship forever altered ("So I put my arms around you/ because I know this is my last chance") while Benson and bassist Pott guide the song along on an ineffably funky backbeat. It's curious, but - against the odds - works like a dream.
Of course, the band's natural melodicism is rarely subsumed altogether, and there's still plenty of room for songs like the Who-move-to-California power of 'Something I Need' and 'Best Kept Secret' which parades its' classic, chugging power pop credentials with audacity to spare. Throw in some call and response vocals and a series of terrific, high-end, Bruce Thomas-style bass swoops from Pott and you've got something seriously satisfying that you'll want to chew on indefinitely.
The Mood Elevator ended up working as the touring band Benson co-opted to tour 'Lapalco', so if you caught him live around this time the chances are you may well have heard them all play a few of the songs gracing 'Married Alive'. For the rest of us, this timely Laughing Outlaw re-issue serves as a great testament to the enduring talent of two fine, individualistic talents who may have parted creatively but continue to respect each other. 'Married Alive' demonstrates that an amicable parting is surely preferable to acromony and alimony. Well done to all concerned.
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