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Night Palace

Night Palace in Bloomington, MN
Current price: $33.99
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In the years following
Mount Eerie
's
Lost Wisdom pt. 2
,
Phil Elverum
's life settled down from the "death and birth and changing weather and romance blown away" he traced with almost unbearable intimacy on
A Crow Looked at Me
and
Now Only
.
The Microphones in 2020
's expansive meditation on the blurry boundaries between past and present hinted at
Elverum
's evolving perspectives on his life after the passing of his wife
Geneviève Castrée
, but
Night Palace
's affecting fragments bring them into focus. Following his return to
the Microphones
, it's no wonder that this album's blend of noisy catharsis and contemplation calls to mind 2001's classic
The Glow, Pt. 2
. Compared to the stark sonics of the past few
albums, however,
's return to densely layered guitars, drums, and vocals feels all the more inspired. He's in his element, using thick distortion to artfully convey the subtlest nuances. On "Night Palace," it evokes the coiled energy of empty spaces; on "Wind & Fog," it channels the weather buffeting his home as well as the intensity of his love for his child.
is also in his elements on
. Fire, earth, and water all get their due, but wind is the album's most potent muse, embodying nature in its purest, most unpredictable form and the suddenness with which life can fall apart or pull itself together again. Wind winds through almost every track on the album, whether it's the gusting field recordings on "I Heard Whales (I Think)" or the smooth indie pop of "Broom of Wind," where
sings, "I pass across the land/Like everyone, a piece of wind/A little confluence/Only the occurrence of a person." Though
's sound echoes his
Microphones
days, its lyrics reflect how much his music has grown. He brings a fuller perspective to songs such as the hymn-like parental devotion of "My Canopy" and playful vignettes like "Empty Paper Towel Roll" and "Blurred World," both of which contain truths as profound as the ones within longer pieces such as "I Walk" and "Demolition." That
's songs began as poetry is apparent in
's artfully chosen words as he describes his creative process on "Writing Poems" ("Making poems is dripping/Not straining toward some masterpiece") and tucks strikingly beautiful imagery into "I Spoke with a Fish" ("recorded music is a statue of a waterfall"). Some of the album's most powerful moments extend the ongoing echoes of his loss to the suffering around him; on "Non-Metaphorical Decolonization" and "Co-Owner of Trees," he sets his guilt and frustration to a heavy Motorik beat that sounds mightier than anything on
's prior three albums. Even compared to the brilliance of
's albums in the late 2010s and early 2020s,
holds a special place in his discography. This document of the peace he found while reassembling his life and his music offers a deeply rewarding experience for fans who have loved his sound at any stage of his career. ~ Heather Phares
Mount Eerie
's
Lost Wisdom pt. 2
,
Phil Elverum
's life settled down from the "death and birth and changing weather and romance blown away" he traced with almost unbearable intimacy on
A Crow Looked at Me
and
Now Only
.
The Microphones in 2020
's expansive meditation on the blurry boundaries between past and present hinted at
Elverum
's evolving perspectives on his life after the passing of his wife
Geneviève Castrée
, but
Night Palace
's affecting fragments bring them into focus. Following his return to
the Microphones
, it's no wonder that this album's blend of noisy catharsis and contemplation calls to mind 2001's classic
The Glow, Pt. 2
. Compared to the stark sonics of the past few
albums, however,
's return to densely layered guitars, drums, and vocals feels all the more inspired. He's in his element, using thick distortion to artfully convey the subtlest nuances. On "Night Palace," it evokes the coiled energy of empty spaces; on "Wind & Fog," it channels the weather buffeting his home as well as the intensity of his love for his child.
is also in his elements on
. Fire, earth, and water all get their due, but wind is the album's most potent muse, embodying nature in its purest, most unpredictable form and the suddenness with which life can fall apart or pull itself together again. Wind winds through almost every track on the album, whether it's the gusting field recordings on "I Heard Whales (I Think)" or the smooth indie pop of "Broom of Wind," where
sings, "I pass across the land/Like everyone, a piece of wind/A little confluence/Only the occurrence of a person." Though
's sound echoes his
Microphones
days, its lyrics reflect how much his music has grown. He brings a fuller perspective to songs such as the hymn-like parental devotion of "My Canopy" and playful vignettes like "Empty Paper Towel Roll" and "Blurred World," both of which contain truths as profound as the ones within longer pieces such as "I Walk" and "Demolition." That
's songs began as poetry is apparent in
's artfully chosen words as he describes his creative process on "Writing Poems" ("Making poems is dripping/Not straining toward some masterpiece") and tucks strikingly beautiful imagery into "I Spoke with a Fish" ("recorded music is a statue of a waterfall"). Some of the album's most powerful moments extend the ongoing echoes of his loss to the suffering around him; on "Non-Metaphorical Decolonization" and "Co-Owner of Trees," he sets his guilt and frustration to a heavy Motorik beat that sounds mightier than anything on
's prior three albums. Even compared to the brilliance of
's albums in the late 2010s and early 2020s,
holds a special place in his discography. This document of the peace he found while reassembling his life and his music offers a deeply rewarding experience for fans who have loved his sound at any stage of his career. ~ Heather Phares