The Microphones The Glow, Pt. 2 (reissue) by: Ed Butler Fri:23-May-08 Label: K Year: 2001/2008 WB rating 79 out of 100

If Einstein was a music writer, his famous equation would have borne little resemblance to its current form. With no mention of energy, or mass etc, it would have read something like:


And let’s face it, cool is the ultimate commodity in the image-obsessed indie rock scene. As such, had Einstein been a music writer, he would have truly adored The Glow, Pt. 2. But he was a physicist, so it’s all rather elemental anyway.

But, being a willfully difficult profession, this music writing caper, let’s consider another equation that we can throw into this somewhat esoteric mathematics lesson, which is a touch simpler:


And now we begin to approach the crux of the matter. Your friend’s never heard of The Microphones? Tell him: they’re amazing. Unaware of The Glow, Pt. 2? He’s missing out on an unambiguously life-changing experience. This lies at the heart of cool. Indirectly, the more acclaim, the more obscurity, as we see below.


Because, by performing another simple equation we begin to see the self-serving nature of this kind of perverse mathematics.


Now clearly, this does little to improve artists’ financial status, but at least by making a difficult record, there is a good chance they will find themselves subject to acclaim, and hence, the ever sought-after cool. It is unlikely, however, that Phil Elvrum, sole continuous member of The Microphones, had any such thing in mind in 2001 when he released The Glow, Pt. 2, named as a sequel of sorts to the languid centrepiece of his previous release, It Was Hot, We Stayed in the Water. But it certainly is an experimental, challenging album, and accrued more than its fair share of gushing plaudits from the indie music intelligentsia during 2001. And didn’t sell much.

As such, nearly seven years on, K, the label responsible for putting out the original album, have repackaged and re-released The Glow, Pt. 2, replete with a bonus disc of cast-offs and material specifically recorded in 2007 for this release. Presumably, the good folk at K are of the opinion that the music buying public that cruelly overlooked their masterpiece seven years ago have grown, and managed to catch up to the stunning artistic vision that Elvrum and co. created in 2001.

All these algebraic contortions, however, could not be less appropriate when considering the music one would hear on The Glow, Pt. 2. While clearly carefully crafted and deliberately assembled, there is an organic feeling to every one of the 20 tracks on offer, acoustic guitar melding with electronic noodling with an uncanny level of comfort, Elvrum’s voice - a slightly less melodic James Mercer – flitting in-and-out smoothly and unobtrusively.

Considering the 2001 release date of this album, there can be little doubt that it was indeed a visionary effort and would rank as equally creative and experimental had it been released in the here and now. Elvrum’s technological flights of fancy propel the album’s many numbers to a level of idiosyncrasy well beyond any traditional folk offerings available.

The bonus disc, much like Sufjan Stevens’ The Avalanche is clearly a collection of numbers that failed to make the cut the first time – making it a director’s cut; merely an extended, expanded version, rather than a superior offering. It serves as an effective companion piece to those for whom the album is essential listening, a glimpse of musical perfection that managed to slip through many a critical net, but will offer little to those that view this as an eccentric, mildly enjoyable curio from the turn of the millennium.

But the album proper, while containing some of what are most certainly among the most thrilling musical achievements of the past decade, including the title track, and ‘I Want Wind to Blow’, the album’s one-two punch opening salvo, has an almost commensurate number of failures. When Elvrum begins to get carried away with the artistic license he clearly extended to himself, the record’s cohesiveness fails at times.

The aforementioned classic tracks, however, are absolutely stunning. Stereo recording has rarely been implemented to such gorgeous effect, as if each string on each guitar was awarded its own channel, combining to create a melody that is as unobtrusive as it is beautiful. When this wonderment is abruptly broken by the distorted intro to ‘The Glow, Pt. 2’, it is merely a means to snap the brain out of its reverie, prepare it for the second dose of The Microphones’ blissful masterpiece.

And if that standard could be maintained across 20 songs, then The Glow, Pt. 2 would probably be the greatest album ever released by anyone. Period. But it can’t be. The requisite amount of genius cannot be possessed by one person, even Einstein. Sometimes the distorted guitars fizzing from speaker-to-speaker are merely distracting, at others, sonic imagery of the highest order. And it is these weaker moments that truly deprive The Glow, Pt. 2 of its claim to classic status.

Whether Phil Elvrum and his cohorts set out to follow the equation to acclaim with the rigour that they achieved is unlikely, and The Glow, Pt. 2 is almost certainly the result of one man’s dedication and creativity, which should always be encouraged. And there are undoubtedly moments of unequivocal brilliance contained therein, but, like so many geniuses before him, Elvrum couldn’t sufficiently control his magic, and a willfully abstract and obscure footnote to musical history it remains. A particularly beautiful one, yes, but a footnote nonetheless.