Blood

I was a bit uncertain this summer when I went to see the Microphones. As I climbed the steps to the Wicker Park art studio where the band was to perform, I couldn't help but wonder how the multi-layered grandiose of songs like "Between Your Ear and the Other Ear" could possibly translate live. Confounding things even more was the knowledge that the Microphones isn't really a band at all, but the result of experiments conducted by Phil Elvrum, one man with a uniquely twisted take on songwriting and recording.

But no amount of uncertainty could have prepared for what occurred that night. Dubbed a "paper opera," the evening's performance was, for better or worse, unlike any other I'd ever attended. Among the highlights:

Not a single instrument was amplified. Not one song off a single Microphones album was sung. There was no proper order of acts; the musicians jumped in and out of one another's sets at will. The performance left two strong impressions in my mind. One was a strong understanding of the ideals behind Johnson's Dub Narcotic Studios, which favors community and fooling around over so-called proper musicianship. The other? The elimination of any doubt in my mind that Phil Elvrum is one fucking strange individual.

Of course, I intend this as the highest of compliments. Without his mind for the absurd or his goofball sensibilities, the Microphones would be just another in a long line of indistinguishable lo-fi bedroom-pop acts. It's Elvrum's ingenuity that found last year's It Was Hot, We Stayed in the Water a place at the top of so many critics' lists and so close to the hearts of countless listeners.

An oddity in itself, Blood is a super-limited collection released by a new vinyl-only imprint called St. Ives, which was opened by Secretly Canadian to give established artists an outlet for some of their more experimental projects. Only 300 copies of this record were released, each featuring different hand-painted covers.

Musically, Blood is like a collection of b-sides to singles that never existed. Side One is stranger than most Microphones albums (if such a thing is imaginable) with constantly contrasting recording styles-- it's equal parts sound collage, demo-collection and noise. There's no tracklist to accompany the album, so I attempted my own.

1. An arrangement of horns plays a simple melody. Recording is crisp as can be. The ear can discern every individual horn.

2. Droning organ harmonizes with voices. All sound drops out. Solo voice sings a cappella, though one gets the feeling that the sound of a silent summer night behind him or the all-encompassing hiss of the tape recording might be more important than the song in question.

3. Sound collage. Bits of guitar, droning vocals, shrieking, gongs, heavily amplified bass guitar, lots of feedback.

4. Like the vocal exercises that proceed a choir practices. Four notes, in progression, an ascending melody sung over and over again by an army of voices, each of which drop in and out at random. At one point, a piano plays a descending melody in the background.

5. A quick, ska-flavored song, with adorable female vocals and multiple horns against a backdrop of organ and drums. "If you were a mountaintop/ I'd keep ascending/ Never stop/ If you were some kind of store/ I'd buy you out/ And wait for more." Probably the album's finest moment. My personal favorite at least.

6. Begins as a horn interlude. At some point, acoustic guitars join in and calming tones give way to distinct melody that builds and builds.

7. A cappella demo of The Glow, Pt. 2's "Map." Nasty recording, apparently done outdoors. At times, the sound of rustling wind overtakes the vocals.

8. Voices and wind cut out completely, but the dark, heavy-handed piano and tightly kept drum-march that end "Map" continue. The recording quality is now superb. As per the original, sonic noise bleeds in from the side. Eventually, it becomes the only thing you can hear.

Taken as a whole, Blood's first side is every bit as engaging as the Microphone's more proper recordings. Its eclecticism works to its advantage, creating a thoroughly fascinating sonic journey through Elvrum's gleefully twisted mind.

Unfortunately, Side Two is far less interesting, comprised mostly of lo-fi demos of "The Mansion," "I Felt My Size," "The Gleam, Pt. 2," and "Samurai Sword." Though the songs stand up in acoustic form, they fail to hold a candle to the complete versions on The Glow, Pt. 2. Placed one after another, they come across as frivolous and somewhat unnecessary.

Still, Blood closes on a strong point, with a lo-fi impromptu cover of Björk's "All Is Full of Love," spliced with a hi-fi recording of Elvrum at the drums, followed by strings and percussion that escalates into the now-trademark Microphones wash of noise.

The unnecessary string of demos and the small pressing will likely garner Blood non-essential status in the minds of many. Too bad, because most of the album sees Elvrum indulging his inner weirdo even more than usual. The result is his most eclectic recording yet, one which, at its best moments, absolutely stands up to the "real" Microphones albums.

More importantly, it stands as a testament to the relaxed nature of the musical process curated by Calvin Johnson and utilized by Elvrum-- one which prioritizes having fun and nourishing the creative instinct, with the music itself almost an afterthought. It's a reminder of an idyllic, nondescript time in music history when rules didn't exist, recording was a forbidden word, music was made for music's sake, and no one had to be reminded of the energy that could come from such freedom.