Review Summary: 2001 March 18th
I had moved out of there years ago. I went back to visit when it was appropriate, and when I did it still felt like home. But it's official now. I never made the best use of it anyway.
Stuck in traffic. Hit the gas pedal. Brake. Hit the gas pedal. Coast. Brake. That looks like enough space. Hit the gas pedal. Turn slightly. Oh no, they're not moving. Turn back. Brake. Hit the Gas pedal. Coast. Brake. HIt the gas pedal. Coast. Brake. Hit the Gas Pedal. Coast. *** I need to move over for I-678. Hit the Gass Pedal. Lanes clear. Coast.
No matter how hard you might try, you will never outrun the inevitable march of nostalgia. Long stretches of highway, those fleeting punk house memories, time spent alone poring over record liner notes; it is all much more romantic in retrospect.
I remember when I first started at the radio station. I was a guest DJ and the hosts asked me to bring some of my favorite folk tunes, as they tried to match a different theme each week and this was folk week. I know nothing about music, and why I am writing about music right now I will never know. but I have always thought of Phil Elverum as a folk, and so I threw on my copy of Black Wooden Ceiling Opening and the host had to stop it and take it off, and apologize to the listeners because it was not folk.
Looking back, and listening to Microphones in 2020, maybe Phil Elverum is not a "folk". Maybe he spends too much time looking in, rather than living life. Maybe he should be goalie for the Seattle Kraken. Maybe Taco Bell should continue to release potato based products.
