The Microphones - Mount Eerie (2003)

Growing up in the shadow of Mt. Erie, the lone peak stretching above Phil Elvrum's hometown of Fidalgo Island ...
Growing up in the shadow of Mt. Erie, the lone peak stretching above Phil Elvrum's hometown of Fidalgo Island, Washington, it was probably easy to imagine it as the highest point in the world, the place where Earth met sky. Mt. Erie is a mere 1,448 ft. at its peak, barely a foothill to Everest, and yet to a child, its summit is stupefying. But in the end, the weight of years pierces the exaggerated perception of youth; there's often a cruel disparity between the remnants of distorted childhood imagery and the onset of adulthood. I don't know what, if anything, a young Elvrum might have imagined in Erie's wilderness, but I'm guessing those memories cast a long shadow.

After his three prior Microphones releases turned out, quite subconsciously, to be about Air, Water, and Fire-- respectively and chronologically-- Mount Eerie is, in Elvrum's words, an album "more consciously about mountains and earth, though it turned out to be more about space." Its nominal peak is naturally at its heart, but only as a caricature plucked from the mind of an over-imaginative young poet, twisted and ominously stretching upward as a bridge to the heavens. Above and below, the album's drama is unveiled as a five-act play in words and music, profound and surreal, made all the more so with its awesome, childlike simplicity. It's a grim myth of revelation, death, and rebirth, but written in crayon, ensuring with its bright colors that all will work out in the end.

Each track serves as a piece in Mount Eerie's continuous, linear story, and many of Elvrum's friends assume roles as the primary cast of characters: Kyle Field (of Little Wings) is Death; Karl Blau represents the birds that pick apart Elvrum's body, and K founder Calvin Johnson gives voice to The Universe itself. Mirah Zeitlyn, Khaela Maricich, Adam Forkner, and Anna Oxygen also make appearances. It's ambitious to say the least, but the contributors are up to the task, executing these whimsically bizarre roles with remarkable sincerity. Music is too often described as "cinematic," but Mount Eerie evokes that exact quality; it's almost possible to envision the sets-- a handcrafted, celestial night sky, a sparse, faux-knoll for Eerie's grassy zenith-- and though crude, they're careful and cared for. The stark sincerity of the performance lends it all a gorgeous, unrefined artistry.