The Microphones in 2020 – The Microphones ★★★½

Year	Album	Artist	Stars	Score	Genre
2020	The Microphones in 2020	The Microphones	★★★½	79	Rock	Singer-Songwriter	Indie Folk

I know that Phil Elverum has a following of die hard fans who feel connected to all of his projects, from The Microphones to Mount Eerie, but I’m not as in love with The Glow Pt. 2 as many are and could not enjoy Crow Looked at Me even if I can appreciate and understand why he made it.

When The Microphones in 2020 was released I was skeptical. After all, how can someone get excited to listen to a 44 minute album that’s literally 1 song with the same acoustic guitar theme and chord progressions the entire time and primarily available to listen to on YouTube? 

Honestly though, this record was beautiful. It’s intimate, reflective, so small and simple at times and breathtaking at others. While the basic theme and tempo of the song is consistent almost the entire 44 minute runtime, it does evolve, with hints of textures added or temporary variations that reflect the themes and stories in the music. Plus, the addition of the visuals in the video, a collection of authentic photos from the eras Elverum’s looking back on, makes it a unique experience and one that felt right while most of the world was inside and alone during the pandemic of 2020.

Elverum’s casual, almost spoken-word approach is soothing, and the lack of range actually helps make it pay off when he does all of a sudden sing for a few moments, or when harmonies come in. The song’s subtleness and repetitive nature makes you yearn for and appreciate every new element that’s introduced, some elements that would likely be ignored on a normal lengthened song or conventional record. Your ear instantly gravitate to anything new. 

The song starts with about 7 minutes of soft strumming, with a chord change that signifies a “chorus” every few minutes, before the vocals are finally introduced. Then at about the 20 minute mark, things get louder as he talks about his past music influences and when he learned he could manipulate sounds, specifically mentioning an endless sustain he heard during a Stereolab concert. Of course, he says this while a sustained note is held for multiple measures.  

That builds and resolves at minute 27, with a beautiful section when he starts talking about family, going back to the acoustic guitar before bursting onto this vast soundscape created by this  organ/keyboard, before again returning to the acoustic guitar. 

Later, distant drums come in, then a constant drumbeat with some various drum breaks for a bit more energetic, somewhat jazzy feel.

About 33 minutes in, the drums drop out and we get the band starting up to jump in, grabbing their sticks, their mics, turning on amps, and then the drums return with distant, chiming guitar harmonics. 

At close to minute 40, you get the first lead guitar part — a slow, slide acoustic that hits just a few notes, but a musical line nonetheless. Then, a piano with a flourish, followed by muted stair cases of keys and amped harmonics that mix with the static of an amp at the very bottom of the sound.

Then at minute 42, there’s a very faint, distant sound of wind or frogs and crickets over a lake, with a bird making an appearance, all still behind the acoustic chord. The end just fades into the night. 

I don’t know how many times I’ll really ever be able to listen to this again. Even if a fully audio version of the record was easily accessible, the photos in the YouTube video for the project feel like an essential part of the listening journey, and who wants to dedicate 44 minutes to a music video? But when you find the time to go and sit through it start to finish, pay attention and be moved.