The news is that after seventeen years Phil Elverum started using the Microphones moniker again. The same name under which in 2001 he signed one of his most important works: “The Glow Part 2”. Shortly after that record, Elverum switched to the name Mount Eerie, under which he published several albums, including “A crow looked at me” (2017) and “Now Only” (2018). Two records where the American songwriter came to terms with the loss, caused by a bad disease of his partner who had left him alone with his little daughter.
This is to say that Elverum’s music has always stood out for an intensity that left little room for compromise. The new work on behalf of Microphones is now no exception and indeed it seems almost to raising the pot, proposing a long composition of about 45 minutes entitled “Microphones in 2020” which, as suggested by the title, takes stock of the situation of the project, illustrating what the Microphones experience represents for the author, as it has come down to the present day.
An autobiography in music that we liked very much, but that immediately seemed to belong to the list of records that are difficult to classify and to lead back to the categories of beautiful or bad. This is because it’s a work that lives in a space of its own and therefore it is refractory to be judged with common measures (or votes). Someone might find this long folk suite excessively long or perhaps boring, but such a judgement would not grasp the point of a work that lives and acquires meaning precisely in its length and that, in its forty-five minutes, manages not to bore thanks to the talent of Elverum that, despite the few and meager melodic hooks, makes the record accessible, thanks to small arrangement touches that, while minimal, give dynamism to the song.
At this point, to convince you completely, we could review other details (the paste of distortions, the resigned and dreamy tone of voice, lo-fi keyboards, noise inserts, etc.) or bring up Mark Kozelek (first name that comes to mind when listening, an artist to which Elverum can be compared for its alluvial and autobiographical writing, but not for the last umbilical solipsism) and, in general, talk about the happy season of the American lo-fi songwriting (of which Elverum was a precious exponent); but the truth is that it is a record that convinced us, simply because it excited us. It has captivated us with a poetic and, somehow, calming stream of consciousness, which – in drawing up an existential balance sheet – does not “speculate” even a moment on the mourning of its author, but focuses on the very essence of his musical and artistic research. Masterpiece? We frankly don’t know and it doesn’t matter… Certainly it’s exciting as few things this year.
The opportunity to interview Phil Elverum was, therefore, too greedy and what follows is the nice chat that the author has given us.
Hi Phil, Let’s start with the new album. How did it come to life? Did it start as a single song that got you carried away or did you always think about the album as a “very long song”? Did the lyrics come from a brainstorm, in a “spontaneous” way, or did they require some fixing/revision/rework along the way?
From the beginning I intended on making a very big, very broad song that encompassed a large part of my life and tried to understand the causes and sensations about that time (1997-2002). It was written over almost a year with constant revisions and work. It was always on my mind. I know it sounds spontaneous but every word was carefully used.
Why did you choose to go back to the “Microphones” moniker? Did you feel like you had some unfinished business with Microphones? What does this moniker mean to you and how do you choose the moniker to associate your work with? (it surely had a great surprise effect, I was shocked when I saw the announcement video, and many other people too!)
I tried to explain this in the song itself.
From a concrete standpoint, how did you build and structure the song? Are the many inserts/arrangements just meant to enrich the song or do they actually represent crucial points in the narration?
I used a click track, a grid, so that I could easily keep track of the timing of sections. I wrote on paper, and I cut and taped the sections into a long scroll. I have a special notation system for keeping track of the rhythm of the words, using blue and red colored pencils, plus signs, dashes.
The instrumentation is all crucial, all necessary. They exist for artistic “feeling” reasons, beyond explanation.
Have you ever thought about the “length” factor while writing the song? Do you have any strategy to keep listener’s attention high and constant throughout the whole work?
Yes, I wanted it to be all essential information. I tried to remove anything that was filler. I didn’t want it to be long only for the sake of being long.
We like thinking about the song itself (the guitar riff) as your “essence”, or your “self”, and every insert/event/plot twist as a representation of situations happening around your persona, like an instant picture. Do you like this interpretation, or think we are on the way to understand it?
Yes, that sounds good to me, I like that. I also make an analogy to a river a lot, about my life or my body of musical work. A river that flows and turns and widens and gets narrow, but remains moving and the same. Never the same water, but somehow the same river. The foundational chords are like this too.
Is music a private and intimate matter for you, or are you keen on sharing it? (I’m not only about the music you write, but also ‘bout what you listen to and how you do it)
It’s pretty private I guess. I mean, I’m always listening to records in the house, but it’s just my daughter and I here.
With my own music, I try to avoid thinking about possible outside interpretations. I try to stay true to myself and follow the idea.
Let’s head back to “A Crow Looked At Me”, a record permeated by pain and suffering, where loss has a key role throughout the whole narration. Many people say some authors must feel pain and suffer to express themselves at best and connect with listeners/fans. Do you agree with this philosophy? Do you believe there is really a connection or synergy between author and “consumer” represented by pain? Is pain really necessary to create an empathic communication, or does it just take feelings (whatever they are) and intensity?
I don’t think pain is necessary to create an empathetic response to art, but it makes it a shorter distance to travel. I felt like the response to that album was people slowing down their cars to gawk at a car accident, and the car accident was me. It’s not good or cool. I tried to say this in the album. “Poetry is dumb. Real death is not for singing about.” etc.
I find the popular notion of “the suffering artist” really shitty actually. Everyone is suffering. Artists are sorting through their shit in a more outgoing way, but that doesn’t make them into public property to be consumed. Everyone deserves gentle kindness and forgiveness and support. But we can be pretty raw animals and respond without that much nuance, so a romantic idea of a suffering artist prevails.
In the new album, it seems like Stereolab had a great impact on you back in time convincing you that it is possible to “create eternity” through sound and to take the same experimental road. What are the most significant “musical encounters” that you had throughout your life and how did they affect your songwriting? Do you have a structured approach to experimentation or do you always change based on the result to achieve?
That Stereolab show I mentioned was a pretty big deal for me. Also a Sunn O))) show I saw in like 2006. But the main inspiration for experimentation has been Karl Blau, my friend. Very open and truly experimental recorder.
In “Microphones in 2020”, there are a lot of references (in terms of quotes and sound) to your previous work, starting from the early tapes, to “The Glow, Pt.2” and “Mount Eerie” (album and moniker). Do you think that quotationism may make the album “inaccessible” to people trying out your music for the first time?
When referencing stuff, I tried to make it work for any fresh ear. I don’t expect anyone to have heard my music before. But accessibility is not really my concern here. I’m just trying to make something new and deep, something beyond what has been done before, and something enlightening.
Based on what I read on the Internet, the album was ready before this global pandemic. Can you confirm that? I’d like to ask you if you think this forced isolation, lockdown, diffused pain (plus all the protests going on in the US) will affect our lives permanently. In particular, do you believe your artistic side will be affected?
Yes, that is true. I did not plan for this to come out in a pandemic, it just happened that way.
Of course, the things going on in the world will affect all our lives permanently. It is massive. These are very extreme times. The world is on fire, drowning, sick, crowded, and violence and hate are very fashionable. And my country is finished. Yes, my artistic side will certainly be affected. I will try to balance healthy engagement and support of the big good struggles, with my desire to keep my daughter safe and healthy and happy. If there is art or music during all of this, that is only a very lucky bonus.
