By Brandon Bussolini
There’s an ebb and flow to Phil Elverum’s career that runs counter to the prevailing logic of indie-rock success. After the critical acclaim of The Glow Pt. 2 (K, 2001) threatened to pin him and his Microphones moniker to the wall, Elverum took up the name Mount Eerie and took refuge in Anacortes, Wash., his hometown. If that album was the culmination of a half-decade’s worth of tape recording experiments and carefully honing his songwriting – Elverum started as folk art musique concrète and ended up heir apparent to the Brian Wilson/Jeff Mangum throne – Mount Eerie is a post-Glow ramble in the woods, far from comfort or rest, teetering on collapse.
Mount Eerie’s two most recent releases are less ramshackle than earlier material, but the project remains tricky to pin down: this year’s Black Wooden Ceiling Opening 10-inch and quickly cranked-out Lost Wisdom LP (both P.W. Elverum and Sun, Ltd.) – a collabo with former Eric’s Trip-per Julie Doiron – oscillate between punky thrust ‘n’ crunch on the former and introverted duets on the latter. Elverum’s probably never played the kind of guitar leads he does on Ceiling Opening before, probably never raked his pick over the strings like that or asked the drummer for a blast beat. Lost Wisdom’s homey feel is more familiar, and Doiron’s wimpy voice is a natural complement to Elverum’s earnest worry.