10 minutes of El Ten Eleven: In praise of instrumental-rock brevity
Kristian Dunn shows off his double-necked guitar. But not for too long.
Instrumental-rock epics like, say, Dirty Three's "Sue's Last Ride" (7:22) and Explosions In The Sky's "The Only Moment We Were Alone" (10:14) prove a couple of things. First, you don't always need words to send listeners through an emotional surge. Second, holding anyone's interest for that long—with or without vocals—is a tall goddamn order. Nonetheless, instrumental bands often err on the lengthy and windy side. Don't get us wrong, it's often wonderful—from the hypnotic Earth to the creepy Godspeed You! Black Emperor—but in this landscape, L.A. duo El Ten Eleven functions like an emergency smelling-salt capsule. ETE's songs usually don't even aspire to stretch on past the five-minute mark. Instead of joining the endurance run, bassist-guitarist Kristian Dunn and drummer Tim Fogarty try to sprint alongside pop's concise hook-writers. Ahead of El Ten Eleven's show this Sunday at Schubas, The A.V. Club will attempt to make a case for the band based on less than 10 minutes of its music.
"Dax Pierson" (from 2005's Every Direction Is North)
"Dax Pierson" by El Ten Eleven
Running time: 3:04
The punch: Named in tribute to Dax Pierson—a Bay Area musician and member of Subtle and 13 & God who was paralyzed from the neck down in a 2005 van accident—this is certainly one of El Ten Eleven's more slow and moody songs. Fogarty keeps the percussion side lean with a sharp snare hit every measure, rather than piling on the busy fills and cymbals such numbers usually call for.
The suspense: "Dax Pierson" lays down a modest yet glimmering set of guitar chords and patiently figures out where it wants to go. As extra layers come in and out, the repetitive structure gives El Ten Eleven to meditate on both sadness and triumph.
"Paranoid Android" (from 2007's These Promises Are Being Videotaped)
Running time: 2:16
The punch: What's the best way to cover a Radiohead song? How about only covering half of it? ETE's version begins in the middle of "Paranoid Android," after the song's initial outburst of anger. Dunn's bass has a lot of space to fill here, but at least smudges in a fair amount of dissonance as the song builds to another freakout.
The suspense: Speaking of that freakout: ETE's great qualities include tightness, dynamics, and clarity, but not so much rawness. The guitar hook that swoops the tune to a close feels just a little too tidy and pleasant. Perhaps this version ought to simmer in "the panic, the vomit" for a few extra minutes after all.
“Numb Tooth” (from Promises)
Running time: 1:40
The punch: If ever a song could singlehandedly make the case for the buddy-cop genre’s revival, it’s “Numb Tooth.” The track rushes out of the gates with galloping cymbals, bursts of fuzzed-out bass breaking up distorted, ska-like guitar notes, and finds enough variation in that limited palette to make for a shockingly addictive listen.
The suspense: That terse combination builds a kind of tension that leaves the listener aching for more—and demanding to know whether the imaginary sideburn-sporting crooks got away from the cops with all those rare museum diamonds.
"Chino" (From Promises)
Running time: 2:52
The punch: What this song's simple, repetitive structure lacks in complexity is forgiven with its almighty, slow-but-purposeful, balls-out rock.
The suspense: Like "Numb Tooth," there's a gritty vibe to "Chino," but it's explored with another minute's more patience to heighten and explore. The truck-horn-sounding bass and snaking guitar trade off in a delicate interplay until the song's midpoint, at which point a grimy, rambunctious guitar solo rolls out the red carpet for a similarly sleazy bass solo, before it all ultimately draws the song to a prompt close.
