Review Summary: the humble genius does it again...
Oh jesus, where to begin. The brainchild of Mount Eerie, Phil Elverum, is one of the most important, influential figures in modern music that almost no one knows about. Under his band's previous moniker, The Microphones, he released The Glow Pt. 2 in 2001, one of the hallmark indie releases of the entire decade. The Glow Pt. 2 was an almost frighteningly creative piece of music, highly experimental in conception and massively successful upon completion. To this day, not much sounds like it, although it had a huge hand in inspiring the experimental, lo-fi folk movement that this decade has seen in abundance. I really can't begin to describe how important that record is. And Elverum hasn't faltered since, released LP after LP of intensely interesting music, refusing to be pigeonholed into any specific genre or movement.
Over the past while, folk-inspired black metal has become the new 'thing', with bands like Wolves In The Throneroom mixing the extreme aesthetics of the genre with woolier, melodic folky arrangements. But much of the Mount Eerie project is about flipping this, cultivating 'folk music' (I use this term incredibly loosely here) that draws inspiration from black metal. Don't expect to hear any blood-curdling screams on this album, however: Elverum is more interested in the tonal experiments of black metal, and how they can further a certain mood or emotion. Long, drawn out squalls of feedback play out over lightly strummed acoustics, and haunting, droning organ chords provide a contrast to fairly mid-tempo drumming. Musically, this album is all over the place, but never manages to sound unfocused; in fact, this collection of tracks are arguably the most focused collection of Elverum's entire career. Guitar distortion rumbles heavily in the background of The Place Lives. Throbbing keyboards mark the feverish House Shape and the jazzy saxophone hook in Lone Bell result in an all out jam by the end of the song. A blastbeat even makes an appearance in Over Dark Water. Yet through it all, Elverum's calm, almost tender voice holds everything together, the Clear Moon that our eyes and ears cling on to through all the darkness. Even now as I type, it seems futile to describe the truly original experience that is this album. And I haven't even mentioned that this is only the first of two albums Mount Eerie is releasing this year, Ocean Roar being the darker counterpart to Clear Moon's light. There's so much more that I could attempt to say about this album, but it really is something that has to be heard to be understood. Beautiful. Terrifying.
