Elephante Plunges Into Superhuman Territory For Chilling New Video
While a significant number of us were preparing bread or gorging Netflix, Elephante went through his days in lockdown submerged and suspended in midair.
The Los Angeles-based artist flaunts some apparently superhuman abilities in his new music video, "High Water." The clasp discovers him murmuring the words to his melody in an oceanic room of sorts and later suspending topsy turvy over a desert floor.
Addressing Stardia, Elephante said he wanted "High Water" to "truly propel myself innovatively." After gathering with chief Alex Goyette, he concluded that the most ideal approach to do so is go to exacting limits.
"There's a piece of me that normally inclines toward the most crazy, most troublesome things," said the 31-year-old, whose genuine name is Tim Wu. "It was the most genuinely testing thing I've done in my life [but] likewise a wild experience."
The shoot required a decent measure of mental planning, as well. "I'm not an incredible swimmer and I've never done scuba jumping, so I was topping off my bath and holding my breath and attempting to practice and see what it resembled," he clarified. "At last, I needed to get myself to this zen state where I persuaded myself that I wasn't suffocating."
Catch Elephante's "High Water" video beneath.
"High Water" is the primary single from Elephante's approaching album, "Heavy Glow," and his first melodic venture since a five-tune EP he divulged a year ago with entertainer Jack Falahee as the independent pop-rock pair Diplomacy. Due out later this year, "Heavy Glow" represents the vocalist, musician and DJ assuming more noteworthy responsibility for his narrative. Though he's most popular in dance music circles as a DJ who has remixed everybody from Ed Sheeran to Katy Perry, his most recent work discovers him investigating elective stone and "the natural feel of Damien Rice."
Lyrically, he's diving into more weak territory, too. "High Water," for example, was motivated to some degree by his initial battles with narcotic enslavement. It was solely after he began treatment in the beginning of the COVID-19 lockdown that he started to handle that experience.
"I had some unpleasant occasions in isolate, as we as a whole did," Elephante reviewed. "I understood that the energy of being a craftsman and visiting and doing this cool crap was bypassing a ton of breaks in the establishment." Therapy, he added, "assisted with explaining what's imperative to me inventively. I've generally infused my own voice into my music, however I was sifting it. I was recounting stories I thought others needed to hear and would need to wrath to at a show."
Moving forward, Elephante is particularly anxious to mirror his Asian personality in his work ― a subject he'd recently kept away from. His folks emigrated from Taiwan to Ann Arbor, Michigan, and urged their child to seek after a profession in medication even after he'd exhibited a propensity for music.
"Growing up, I'd never seen an Asian American doing what I needed to do," he said. "The sum total of what we had was Jackie Chan, and I didn't do kung fu and I wasn't interesting. I generally felt like an imposter. It wasn't until I was 22 or 23 when I was at long last like, no, this is the thing that you're intended to do."
Nowadays, Elephante gets himself "so moved" by the extent of Asian narrating in music and film, as exemplified by the Oscar-selected crush "Minari."
"At the point when I was more youthful, there was consistently that voice that resembled, 'Nobody truly minds, so stay in your place and be a decent kid,'" he said. "I believe there's a ton about my experience [that's average of] the Asian American experience. So I've been attempting to incline toward that and recount my story."