Eleven Songs

MOUNT EERIEELEVEN OLD SONGS OF MOUNT EERIE

It can pretty much to without saying that Mount Eerie main man Phil Elverum (The Microphones) is fond of the winter season, specifically the month of December. This, his second Mount Eerie release on his own label, P.W. Elverum & Sun, Eleven Ltd., Eleven Old Songs of Mount Eerie was written over a five-month period in early 2003 while Elverum was staying in Finnkonevika Hytte, Norway. Over a year later in December of 2004 Elverum quickly recorded these 11 songs (in his words) “with the use of only one instrument to preserve the not yet really recorded album of winter wake up.” Those familiar with Elverum’s work know not to think too much into such cryptic talk; regardless, we have Mount Eerie’s strangest album yet, and get this, it’s recorded entirely with some sort of keyboard/drum machine. Oh, and an accordian.

Similar to Elverum’s last proper release, No Flashlight, Eleven Old Songs is available in the U.S. only as a LP/CD combo pack via his website and live shows. Eleven Songs’ presentation is impressive – complete with Elverum-painted cover art, a handmade lyric book, a small Norway photo album and white vinyl. As he becomes more and more independent, Elverum also becomes even more cryptic, in the meantime never disappointing the fans that saw his unquestionable creative genius upon the release of his indie mega-classic The Glow Pt. 2.

Elverum’s antics are all well and good, but as of late, his music isn’t. It might be well, or it might be good, but more times than not, it’s flawed, and Eleven Old Songs is his most flawed release yet. Sounding like it was recorded in the closet of the bedroom that The Postal Service recorded their surprise hit album in, Mount Eerie’s latest is, as professed by Elverum earlier when he said “not yet really recorded,” half baked. The lyrics are there .– specifically “Great Ghosts” and “I Love It So Much,” both of which are also featured on Live in Japan – but the music, or keyboard, or whatever, is there just barely enough to be listenable. On many songs we hear The Microphones Singers, a group of Elverum collaborators from the Anacortes, Washington area that have proved to be clutch so many times in the past on Mount Eerie and Microphones recordings. On Eleven Old Songs, with only already-dated keys to flesh out the arrangements, Elverum’s inclusion of The Singers comes off as awkwardly indulgent, providing too sharp a contrast to the album’s overly minimalist format.

Elverum’s first full-blown failure is bittersweet and, thankfully, an album that only a few hundred people will ever get the opportunity to hear. The combination of Elverum’s singing, lyrics and accessible album format is one of the most focused and promising advances of his career, but that which he is so known and loved for – his oddball approach to uber-creative conceptual “art rock” – is simply not present anywhere. The Microphones/Mount Eerie/Phil Elverum, all one in the same, could probably put out one of the best albums every year if that were the goal. It’s not; Elverum simply wants to follow his art wherever it takes him, pathetic budget-minded blips, unnecessary name changes and all.  6/10

Written by G. William Locke