Pitchfork

Educational inequity is a serious problem in America, and neither the Republicans ("test the kids and divert tax dollars to Christian schools") nor the Democrats ("...") have a serious solution. Seattle-via-Chicago "sloppy pop" trio BOAT may not be a "serious" band-- as their name and froggy indie-dork vocals suggest-- but this self-deprecating reminiscence of a failed Teach for America teacher more believably depicts the Chicago Public School District than anything in the Tribune, which recently ran a story lauding the city's improved test scores on a brand new test without ever seriously bothering to assess whether students actually, you know, learned more. (They "liked the new color format," we're told.) Everybody wins with such pleasing tales-- except the kids.

So I could give a shit about all that. "Elephant Ears" opens with tinkling bells, straightahead acoustic guitar, and wobbly theremin, soon joined by elegantly skewed feedback and a subtle drum build-up. "In a classroom with unswept floors/ I am the man in the corner, and I am waiting to sweep it," pronounces frontguy D. Crane. Then either drummer J. Goodman or bassist M. McKenzie echoes the endings of Crane's stupid phrases, like, well, "Elephant Ears". Somehow the song also makes room for a metaphor involving an eponymous watercraft and a big bridge that shamelessly name-drops Chicago El lines (that's Blue, right bitches?). "We will never win/ I'm telling you this for the last time," Crane concludes, but the future doesn't really have to be so bleak. At least not for the next three minutes.