This article was originally published on beingtheremag.com, an independent music and film magazine that ran from 2004 to 2007. It is presented here as part of the Being There Magazine archive.
By Adam Anklewicz | Being There Magazine, November/December 2005
Artist: RICK WHITE | Label: Bluefog
It’s hard to believe that Rick White can produce the vast amount of material that he releases every year, whether it’s Elevator (or its various incarnations), The Unintended, or now his first proper solo studio release. White previously released a set of records which were later compiled on one CD called Parts 1-3 as Elevator To Hell, mostly unaccompanied. Over forty albums are listed as Elevator’s discography spanning September 1994 to the present. It’s amazing to think that this doesn’t include previous solo live discs, catalogue Eric’s Trip releases, The Unintended and any other project White might have had a hand in. Does the man have time to eat?
After so many releases (of which my shelves are only graced with a small few) you can’t help but see that White has certain style. If you’re unfamiliar with White’s work, the band name Elevator To Hell reveals a lot (see: 13th Floor Elevators). His lo-fi psychedelic sounds have given him a reputation, and I thought I knew what to expect on this record even before taking the shrink-wrap off of this disc.
I was pleasantly surprised. Fans of White’s previous work will find The Rick White Album much similar to what they’ve listened to before, but will also not feel that this is the same-old-same-old. This album is lusher than anything White has ever done before, yet it’s also sparser. Mostly filled just with acoustic guitar, drums and White’s haunting voice, the album is great achievement. You won’t find Tara White’s pounding bass lines that filled such “classics” as “Energy” or “The Animals” or Mark Gaudet’s head-spinning drumming that filled so many great Elevator Through songs. The closest this record comes to anything similar to Elevator’s sound is “I Don’t See You,” one of the closing tracks.
White sings in “The Book,” “In a hidden little book, I write the vision seen. I hope someday, somebody may, make sense of what it means.” His usual lyrical style graces this record as any other before, however it stands out more on this record thanks to a lighter backing.
Clocking in at barely 45 minutes, the album is filled with 16 short tracks that breeze right by you, giving you a brief glimpse into the tapestry of Rick White.