Elephant Run - Leftover Land

​Elephant Run

Leftover Land
+um HITS; 2024

By Jamie Funk
​

Elephant Run’s Leftover Land is one of those sophomore albums that feels both wildly unpredictable and fully formed. Recorded in the hills of São Lourenço at Mato Records Studio, the album pulls from a deep well of international sounds, stitching together Nordic cool, Brazilian warmth, and a kind of genre-agnostic curiosity. I heard traces of Björk’s icy introspection, the wild invention of Os Mutantes, and the expansive melancholy of Radiohead, especially in the way the songs shift moods without warning, never bothering to settle into one genre or idea for too long.

The opener, “Hanoi,” sets the tone perfectly. There’s something vintage about it, a ghost of late 60s psychedelia lingering in the guitar tones and organ swells. But it’s the vocals that really cut through, bold, expressive, and unapologetically distinct. The track builds slowly, morphing into something far bigger and more unhinged than I expected. That kind of dynamic motion turns out to be a theme across the whole record.

“Autophobic” hits with a swagger that reminded me of Amy Winehouse at her most confident. It’s slick and soulful, built on deep grooves and a vocal performance that manages to be both commanding and loose. “Make It Real” might be my favorite. It’s deceptively simple, riding on a tight rhythm section and featherlight vocals that feel like they’re hovering just above the mix. The song is intimate without being fragile.

On “We Are Heroes,” the band dives headfirst into more atmospheric territory. The influence of OK Computer era Radiohead is unmistakable, from the melancholy chords to the patient build of textures. At times it even veers toward ambient, with soft, cinematic passages that give the song space to breathe.

“Urubu” is the most instantly catchy track here. It has that Feist-like combination of delicacy and precision, with just enough edge to keep it interesting. The vocals and guitars are perfectly in sync, and the organ adds a nostalgic warmth that grounds the whole thing. Then there’s “Pega Mal,” which leans hard into chaos in the best way. The vocals sound half drunk on purpose, and there’s an actual burp left in the mix that made me laugh out loud. It’s weird, playful, and refreshingly self-aware.

“Your Head First” brings things back down with a shadowy groove that hints at darker corners, and the closer “Utsålt” wraps the album in a swirl of low-end bass and swirling textures. It doesn’t feel like a resolution so much as a final question mark, and that ambiguity suits the record well.

Leftover Land surprised me. It’s quirky, emotionally layered, and never afraid to take detours. Elephant Run sound like a band uninterested in chasing trends and more invested in chasing ideas. I’ll definitely be keeping an ear on whatever they do next.

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