There aren't many artists that have been making consistently exciting music for as long as Phil Elverum has been under his various musical pseudonyms, the most notable being The Microphones and Mount Eerie, the latter being the second incarnation after The Microphones' Mount Eerie. From experimental beginnings to rugged indie-folk to what was essentially Phil's black metal album in Black Wooden Ceiling and back again, nothing he has done has felt like a re-tread of what had come before, but somehow he has managed to maintain an instantly recognisable sonic fingerprint across all his projects.
For me the peak moments in his expansive discography come in the form of 2001's The Glow Pt. 2 and 2003's Mount Eerie.A saw an exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Sydney showing the work of Japanese artist Tatsuo Miyajima, which was a series of installations ruminating on life and death and the cycle it forms. All of the installations featured digital numbers in LED lights, all counting down from 9 to 1, vanishing, and starting again. The numbers 9-1 represented life, while 0, or nothing, represented death. Miyajima explained that life and death is like a sine wave, dipping over and under an axis repeatedly; all that is above the axis is what we see, and all that lies below the axis is what we cannot see, that is, the metaphysical. Listening to The Glow Pt. 2 and Mount Eerie creates a strikingly vivid image of this cycle, from the view point of the narrator (presumably Phil himself). The Glow Pt. 2 seems to take place above the axis, right to the point of tipping over, and Mount Eerie picks up where the story is left off as the narrator continues onwards, beyond the physical realm and into the nothingness underneath the axis.
Both records are perfect examples of the kind of warm ruggedness Elverum lines his music with through home analogue recordings. There are crackles and imperfections everywhere, but don't let that fool you into thinking a project like this could be easily recreated; the depth and emotional core to these two albums make sure it never slips onto the wrong side of the line between rough and unfinished. There are glimpses of genius all over the recording, like the panned guitars on the titular The Glow, Pt. 2 and the panoramic drums in the vast, sweeping 17-minute opener of Mount Eerie, The Sun. There is a comforting, almost familiar feeling the unique style of recording endows, even when cymbals are clipping like hell and guitars blare with awful noise-rock distortion. Whenever the songs do widen like they do at the end of I Want Wind To Blow, I Want To Be Cold and Samurai Sword there is an underlying tranquility, whether it be through sustained layered vocals sitting almost unnoticed above the mix or similarly hidden acoustic guitar lines.
The narrative is chillingly transcendent, something best experienced as intended by Elverum - through music - and not on paper. The way My Warm Blood limps on towards the end with echoes of the opening track I Want Wind To Blow (and that haunting foghorn heard across the album), and then continues in a more primal, visceral way as Mount Eerie begins is an incredible experience. The way the two separate records are so tightly linked but at the same time belong to distinctly different sides of the x-axis honestly blows my mind still today. Over 105 minutes and two albums Elverum manages to take the listener on a journey through life and all its insecurities, pain and ecstasy, and then beyond and into the vast nothingness with eyes wide open. It's terrifying, gorgeous and exciting, often all at the same time, and should not be missed by anyone serious about music.
"Now that I have disappeared
I have my sight
Beautiful black you are unveiled
Oh universe, I see your face looks just like mine
We are open wide."
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