The Elected

You can’t accuse the Elected of being undemocratic. Among the constituents represented in the L.A. quartet’s postmodern pastiche are Harry Nilsson, Donovan, the Beach Boys, Glen Campbell, Gram Parsons, Simon and Garfunkel, the Eagles and a host of other artists from the Vietnam years. None of these folks are quoted directly, but they influence the Elected’s work as surely as Locke and Rousseau influenced our Founding Fathers. “Greetings in Braille,” a lonesome waltz of guitar and harmonica, might have been the theme to Midnight Cowboy if the film had featured a blind cast. “A Time for Emily” bubbles with Pet Sounds pop. Other tunes have their own throwback shtick as well. The sonic landscape takes us to Buck Owen’s Bakersfield (the twangy “Waves”), Sinatra’s Vegas (the brassy, cheesy “Don’t Get Your Hopes Up”) and the Eagles’ Winslow, Arizona (the sunny “7 September 2003”). But it’s the Elected’s modern, original ideas that win them the most votes. The haunting “C’mon, Mom” updates the answering-machine-message-as-soundscape theme originated by the Replacements and Sonic Youth. The album’s closing track, “British Columbia,” is a Spanish acoustic number rendered lovely by its spareness. It’s Segovia meets Elliott Smith — and it wins in a landslide.