19 December 2009

The Microphones - Little Bird Flies Into A Big Black Cloud (2002)

Occupying the space somewhere between musical journal, spoken poetry, solo unaccompanied album and something else altogether, i've not really heard an album like this anywhere else. Just Phil Elverum, switching back and forth between a piano, some sort of organ and spoken word. You can hear him turning pages and shifting in his chair between songs, and gives the impression it may have been done in one take. All the songs are untitled, and it is a uniquely melancholy and intimate album the likes of which i have not seen before. Listen to it beginning to end, perhaps while in bed or something.

I show you myself as a buoy, And you see an anchor/ I sing you my welcome; And you - you ship - are pulled under/ You've got courage to knock on any door, Until you come to freeze up mine - It swung wide / Oh, you coward! You're afraid / You coward! You're the anchor / You coward! You're the fortress / You coward! You're afraid

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