The Microphones
Mount Eerie
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When he was 5, Phil Elvrum drew his first crayon representation of Mount Erie looming from outside the kitchen window. Someone patted him on the head and told him it was beautiful, so Phil, like most 5-year-olds would, took this as an invitation to draw Mount Erie on his bedroom walls, in lipstick on the bathroom mirror, in chalk on the sidewalk, on the curtains, etc. It's cute when Harold does it, but Elvrum has run with the praise and turned his preciousness into a concept album!

Truth be told, Elvrum's 2001 album, The Glow, Pt. 2, was a mighty fine picture, too. And everyone told him so. The praise was warranted and enough to make Elvrum think he could climb mountains. The five-act Mount Eerie (extra "e" added for eeriness) dramatizes this trek. Save for a few scenes, it's a complete tragedy. Or a comedy.

Mount Eerie opens with "I. The Sun," lacking any signs of Elvrum's plucky trademark guitar awash with lo-fi bedroom static. A dismal hum and muffled beat eventually bore their way into some tribal drums — a perfect Lord of the Flies soundtrack — before Elvrum croaks, "See me waving my handkerchief." At 17 minutes, it's barely listenable and as a joke, it's too long to be very funny.

The same is true for "IV. Mt. Eerie," in which the voice of Death (courtesy of Little Wings' Kyle Field) sounds more like the Green Giant than the grim reaper. And Death's monologue itself is laughably bad, moaning and rasping like it could segue into the work of two turntables and a microphone.

Not all of Mount Eerie is played with tongue firmly in cheek, though. The plaintive, "II. Solar System" sways sweetly to an earnest Elvrum singing, "I know you're out there." It's a three-minute reprieve from the journey over the top. "III. Universe," too, soothes the way Elvrum does best, trading the beat-heavy ruckus of the first act for lofty, yet concentrated, atmospherics and Elvrum asking, "How many times have I made up this song before?"

Yet with approximately 1.5 decent tracks, Eerie earns even more pats on the back for what must be a smirking Elvrum. It should also be noted that Mount Eerie comes in two additional EP versions featuring only drums and vocals, respectively — a presumptuous and sickly charming notion when the combined parts don't seem worth separating in the first place. And taking all the praise yet another step into the stratosphere (boy, the air's getting thin up here!), Elvrum has opted to disband the Microphones to perform under the Mount Eerie moniker (it's like Michael Jackson performing as Invincible).

In a 2002 coffee-shop performance of Eerie tracks, Elvrum danced stiffly, raising his legs and plunking them down again like a tin soldier, as if he were being controlled by some great master puppeteer above. The gestures seem prescient if you consider the possibility that he might just be pulling our chains with this Eerie business, but those were simpler times and Elvrum's lilting whisper was still sincere.

— Lavina Lee (lavina at flakmag dot com)