On Monday, Mount Eerie—aka Phil Elverum—graced Murmrr Theater's stage for the first of two nights, playing songs from his latest record, the singularly sparse and haunting A Crow Looked At Me. The ever-gracious Nick Karp was on hand to take photos—check them out below.
With Denver's Goldrush Festival coming up this weekend, it was high time for curator and Planted Tapes labelhead Crawford Phileo to spill the audio for his annual companion cassette. The tape features new music from just about every act playing the fest (no Eric Copeland or Wolf Eyes, sadly) and will eat up a good chunk of your afternoon. The compilation and Goldrush zine come free with weekend pass presales, and can also be ordered through Planted Tapes if you, for some reason, are not in Colorado this weekend.
Ocean Roar is the second of two Mount Eerie albums to be released in 2012, the sequel, if you will, to Clear Moon, released earlier this year. As the titles suggest, Ocean Roar is a fuzzy counterpoint to Clear Moon's twinkling synth landscapes. On the title track of this latest effort, shimmering guitars give way to crooning female vocals reminiscent of the ebb and flow of waves against a beach on a grey day.
Though a frequent dabbler in the visual arts-- from photo books to paintings to comics-- Mount Eerie's Phil Elverum has never released an official video. That changed today when Elverum let loose the somber, meandering clip for "The Place Lives." It's a lumbering cut from Clear Moon, his first of two 2012 LPs; the second, Ocean Roar, drops September 4 through the P.W. Elverum and Sun label.
If you cut your own hair on nature hikes then you'll find some common ground with Elverum in this clip as stalks up the hills of his Anacrotes, Washington home, trimming his peppery mane. He boils some water on a Sterno campstove and digs a hole. We seem to be witness to a ritual, an evocation of sorts, culminating in Elverum offering instant coffee and its china vessel to the earth. Hard to surmise if it's meant to energize the land or call our attention to an ever-present life force; perhaps it's just a metaphor about treating our environment with the same care and respect with which we treat ourselves.
I recently spoke with Elverum on his visual language, for a long-form interview that will appear in the first Ad Hoc zine, dropping this September.