Ruminations On A Classic That I Should Love - The Glow, Pt. 2

 Phil Elverum recently dropped a phenomenal record. On first listen, his return to the legendary The Microphones moniker fully realizes the promise of his earlier work while imbuing it with the voidlorn gaze of a middle-aged man that has finally "faced death."  At the Microphones in 2020's climax, after 40 minutes of soul-wrenching stream of consciousness ruminations on meaning, nostalgia, and the fleetingness of art and personality, Phil punctuates a wall of melancholic noise with one of many sonic references to his internet era classic The Glow, Pt. 2. This isn't the record's first nod to its predecessor - in fact, it's one of the last on the record - but something about it hits with a wall of visceral sentimentality. The moment in question sees Elverum quote the infamous line, "I took my shirt off in the yard," from the record's title track. This moment and the original song that surrounds it contributes to one of the greatest tracks in indie music history, but unfortunately, and despite what many others may claim, the record it is featured in doesn't nearly live up to that promise. 

I have a soft spot in my heart for most of the notable albums that fall under the banner of "/mu core." This particular group references records that the music imageboard for the notorious internet forum 4chan heralds as masterpieces. I personally love works like Spiderland, Kid A, Pinkerton, Deathconsiousness, and even In the Aeroplane Over the Sea despite the ridiculous cliches that surround them. In addition to being wonderfully crafted and innovative, "/mu core" often captures strong feelings of sadness, isolation, poisoned nostalgia, and wisteria in a way that popular music rarely does. As a metalhead, these albums and those associated have served as fantastic introductions to the alien worlds of other genres and functioned as both conduits and examples of intensely negative emotions. The Glow, Pt. 2 arguably embodies these quintessential aspects of /mu core better than any of the other albums, yet I feel no strong technical or emotional pull towards it.

I truly feel as if the album's first 3 tracks are by far its strongest offerings. "I Want Wind to Blow," "The Glow, Pt. 2" and "The Moon" all function as sprawling pieces of eargasmic Avant-Indie, weaving in and out of hypnotic acoustic guitar loops, Phil's signature muted tenor and explosions of intense noise. Each piece builds masterfully as dynamics careen across the spectrum of heartfelt emotional innocence and desolate rawness. Instead of being structured as songs, they function more like a collection of uniquely stunning moments held together by thematic strength and melodic cohesiveness. This is aided by some immensely memorable lyrics that can be interpreted in any number of ways while still adding to the larger concept. Lovers of this album would argue that these 3 tracks simply function as microcosms of the larger work and that these positives continue to permeate the album and to an extent, I agree, but the remainder of TGP2 strikes me as comparatively underwhelming and far more egregious, boring. 

Taken as a whole, The Glow, Pt. 2 seems to be a record that furthers its concept at the cost of sonic engagement. The record is about the crushing realization of ontologic loneliness that comes after moments of great emotional vulnerability. In Phil Elverum's case, this weight came with the discovery that his girlfriend at the time had been cheating on him with one of his close friends. This is a deeply personal story that would understandably devastate any individual, but it's not so abstract that an audience would have no immediate trouble relating to it. Every facet of TGP2 seems engineered to sell the auditory journey of a man losing himself to the loneliness of the world. The stream of consciousness lyrics, the raw production aesthetic, the jagged shifts across genre boundaries, and the disconnected flow from track to track. I believe that's where my disconnect lies, in the fact that this album is a collection of sonic moments held together by a cohesive emotion rather than songs that function in isolation. 

As a fan of nontraditional music in general, this deep adherence to a concept is impressive and the way Elverum pulls it off is honestly genius, but I feel a strong personal dissonance towards the whole ordeal because I don't personally enjoy it. The record flows immaculately, darting between genres, and moods with workmanlike precision. It creates natural peaks and valleys in the listening experience and the visceral intensity of certain climaxes (the moment in "I Want to Be Cold" and the entirety of "Samurai Sword") in particular hit like trucks when compared to the overall subdued melancholy. Lastly, the way Phil reprises, foreshadows and, reiterates upon musical themes is quite smooth and adds a real depth of relistenability to the whole experience. The droning hum that ends the album in "My Warm Blood" appears several times beforehand, rearing its dower head in-between moments of sheer expression, and when the whole piece concludes on sort of an anticlimax it adds vital context to its prior hints. 

Despite all of this praise and ingenuity, I still can't see myself rating this classic anything higher than a strong 7/10. As an impassioned experience, it functions as a rare medium that not only lays bare the artist's emotional turmoil but also invites the listener to bathe in the void's inner darkness as well. This is supported by any number of clever recording tricks, songwriting tactics, and lyrical fidelity. However, this same nature that makes the album so compelling, in my opinion, detracts too much from its enjoyability. When I listen to The Glow, Pt. 2, I find myself constantly wishing that Phil's collection of stunning moments could instead be turned into a collection of stunning songs. I wish the beautiful melodies and heart-stopping dissonances could be fleshed out into fully realized pieces that utilize Elverum's unique strengths. Instead, the jagged, unfinished nature of the project keeps me longing for what could have been.  

- Samuel Graff