Mount Eerie - No Flashlight (Album Review)

 

Mount Eerie - No Flashlight

(2005)

My copy: 2015 remastered reissue on white vinyl by P.W. Elverum & Sun, LTD.

2005 brought singer-songwriter Phil Elverum fully into his new world recording under the moniker Mount Eerie. No Flashlight was one of the first full-length releases under the Mount Eerie name, and strips Elverum’s sound back into careful vignettes of warm acoustic guitar with conceptual lyrics. No Flashlight seeks to emulate the feeling of being in the woods at night, from dark campfire songs to drone pieces with words that explore mysticism in nature. 

“I Know No One” is immediately emotional, with muted hand percussion and deep drums ringing out in the background. The acoustic guitar is sparse as if it is carefully considering its movements. Accordion wheezes between vocals that sound as though they are on the verge of crying. The album is warm but moody, and often restrains itself from breaking out into an obvious melody. Unfortunately too many songs meander about in this style, toning down the initial charm. Crunching distortion tightens and loosens its grip on a drone throughout “I Hold Nothing” which is notable for its commanding changes of atmosphere. A guitar motif rises from a brief piano melody, sending the song off with repetition. “The Moan” is explosive with powerful drums reminiscent of early Microphones albums as sirens blare like wolves howling. 

Fluttering improvised percussion accompanies the vocals of both Phil and Genevieve Elverum like bones rattling during a ritual. There are moments where Elverum borrows from afro-beat and street music with the shuffling percussion of “No Inside, No Out” and standout track “The Universe Is Shown.” There is a trio of conceptual interludes that tell a story (“(2 lakes),” “(2 Mountains),” and “(2 Moons)”), with the first two featuring shaker and jaunty progressions that serve as lighthearted breathers from the mostly introspective and mellow mood. “(2 Moons)” however begins with a fearful tremolo and builds suspense only to end abruptly and almost humorously. 

“Stop Singing” is nearly impressive in its meekness as woodwinds barely surface like deer staring from a distance. The percussion is unique in its timbre, and electric guitar appears minimally. “No Flashlight Pt. 1” starts with ominous repetition before being relieved by a bed of electric guitar. The highs across the record are sharp and almost metallic sounding, so as to make them feel more primitive and crude. The plot loses itself at “The Air In The Morning” which is just too shy to warrant multiple revisits. It is clear what Elverum is doing conceptually: using subtlety and minimalism to craft something that feels alive, curious and nervous. But this approach ends up delivering some tracks that are flatly boring. “What?” is only saved by its pounding piano marches while “How?” is charming for its vocal duet. 

“No Flashlight Pt. 2” is probably the best composition of the album, with meditations on sliding guitar melodies being ripped into by distortion and lo-fi drumming. Elverum’s vocals across the album are largely monotone, only giving in to falsettos and soothing harmonies on occasion. No Flashlight feels like an emotional trip into the dark woods though no one considered if such a journey would actually be fun. The immersive lyrics discussing the mystery of nature and settling down are worthwhile, but most of the tone is dour and bleak; this could have worked If the instrumentation had felt more consistent throughout the album.