Microphones Live in Japan: February 19, 21 & 22
(K Records)Phil Elvrum certainly is a difficult man to keep up with. Just over twelve months ago, he announced that he would be retiring the Microphones' name, continuing instead under the new moniker of Mount Eerie, somewhat confusingly the title of his former band's final LP. That took long enough to comprehend, so you can imagine my reaction when faced with Live in Japan, a new Microphones album recorded after Elvrum first mentioned the supposed name change. And it's a live disc, recorded over three nights, composed of (to my ears) entirely new material. Confused? I know I am.
Prior to hearing Live in Japan, I had assumed that Elvrum's decision to 'break up' the Microphones was spurred on by his desire to pursue something of a new direction. And while this is still a Microphones recording in name - and a bare, no-frills live recording at that - there is some evidence here to suggest a shift in focus.
Perhaps, after exploring the mystery of life, death, and the universe on last year's Mount Eerie, Phil Elvrum's only realistic option was a return to more traditional song-based compositions. And if it wasn't, well, maybe it was just the one he found most appealing. Whatever the reason, Live in Japan contains some of the most straightforward and intimate material Elvrum's ever committed to tape.
It all begins with the sparse, unaccompanied guitar figures of Great Ghosts, a delicate rumination on, as the title would suggest, death. Yet despite the lack of hope in the song's lyrics - the gist being that Elvrum dreams of a triumphant return from exile, only to wind up joining the multitude of ghosts that torment his mind - it's one the most beautiful songs he's penned since The Glow Pt. II's sublime I Felt Your Shape. The similarly dark The Blow Pt. II follows, and, crammed full of emotion, flourishes in spite of some rather shoddy instrumentation from an again unaccompanied Elvrum.
Universe Conclusion is the first and longest of Live in Japan's five full band tracks, and although the lyrics revolve around themes introduced in Mount Eerie, it is also the first track to hint at a new musical direction. After six minutes of directionless jamming, Elvrum leads the band in a ninety second freak-out, seemingly possessed by the spirit of pure rock 'n' roll. It's as refreshingly different as the tribal drumming that opened Mount Eerie, and arguably one of the finest moments on this entire disc.
We Squirm, and two almost-cover versions, My Favourite Things and Silent Night, make up a forgettable mid-section, but all is forgiven as Elvrum plucks his way into After N. Young, an ode to disappointment which proves to be anything but. Next up, Climb Over and I Love You So Much are two more endearingly sloppy full band workouts, before I Have Been Told That My Skin is Exceptionally Smooth sees Elvrum asking a series of apparently random questions as bizarre as "should my hair be long?" and "are affairs so wrong?" over one of Live in Japan more experimental backing tracks.
The album closes with perhaps its strongest track, the conventional yet brilliant Thanksgiving. It's another full band workout - and perhaps the tightest display of musicianship on Live in Japan - which sees Elvrum abandoning a relationship-centred theme halfway through, in favour of a discussion on the futility of existence (sample lyric: "our lives are just long saggings of the spine"). It's a dark twist, but one which works incredibly well, capping off the superb finale.
So, as you see, Live in Japan is another impressive album from Phil Elvrum, but what exactly does it all mean? Will it be, as we have been led to believe, the final Microphones album? And does it really provide us with clues as to Elvrum's future, or is it merely a precursor to a Mount Eerie Part II? The answer is simple: it's impossible to tell. Live in Japan is, at the end of the day, a live album; many of the songs feature little or no accompaniment, and their simplicity could be the result of necessity as much as artistic design. And besides, it's 13 months old anyway. You want my advice? Enjoy this for the fantastic recording that it is and let the future take care of itself.
31 March, 2004 - 23:00 — David Coleman