hen Phil Elvrum emerged from the fog of the Pacific Northwest in 1994, lo-fi was on its dying legs. Progenitors such as Lou Barlow and Pavement had long since moved on to fuller bands and nicer studios, while the world mourned the death of Kurt Cobain and, unwittingly, that of mainstream acceptance of good music. But then again, aside from his keen melodic sense, Elvrum never really had all that much to do with the aforementioned ex- bedroom/garage rockers anyway. Stripped of the atmospheric fuzz, his music is so expansive and complex that it borders on symphonic. And although his name has been attached to a number of like-minded projects from Old Time Relijun, Mirah, and D+, no outfit has suited his ideas better than The Microphones.


Song Islands compiles all of The Microphones’ 7” singles, as well as a number of previously unreleased tracks, dating from the band’s first cassette only album Tests to last year’s masterpiece The Glow, Pt. 2. Much like Braid’s posthumous Movie Music collection, this disc allows one to trace the development of Elvrum’s unique vision from its most embryonic forms, to its finest (and, by no coincidence, most recent) executions. While early concoctions sound occasionally muddled, it’s merely the sound of Elvrum trying to find a balance in what he wants to create. Indeed, it would take anyone years to achieve the harmony that was apparent on every moment The Glow, Pt. 2.


But therein lies the problem with his compilation. Although the music runs the gamut from merely good to unflinchingly excellent, it is of little interest to those who are not already ardent Microphones supporters. And at 21 songs in a whopping 69 minutes, it is nearly impossible to get through in one sitting, even for fans. True, Elvrum has never been one for brevity, but the cohesiveness of his albums better lent themselves to uninterrupted listens. Song Islands is held together only by the name of the band creating the songs. Hence, it is more of a document, meant to be listened to in pieces, almost for reference. In other words, a 9.0 release for fans who have craved this kind of digest compendium for so long, and a 6.0 for any passing listener. In the interest of fairness, the two ratings have been averaged.


The albums running in concurrence with the singles presented here give the best indication of the personalities of the songs, from the massive fuzz-pop of Don’t Wake Me Up (“Bass Drum Dream”, “Feedback,”) to the dynamic pastiche of It Was Hot, We Stayed In The Water (“I Can‘t Believe You Actually Died,” most likely the collection’s highlight,) to the otherworldly, yet deeply intimate soundscapes of The Glow, pt. 2 (two alternate versions of that album’s “The Moon” that prove to be equally essential as the original.) The compilation tracks that follow run much in the same vein, from the hauntingly beautiful “I Listen Close” to the playful “The Glow, pt. 4.”


Although I can’t do much about recommending this disc to most people, I can say that it proved to be further evidence of Elvrum’s singularly unique brilliance. Not only is he one of the strongest, most consistent performer in indie music today, but one of the best producers as well. The glorious treatment given to friend Mirah’s already highly enjoyable 2002 album Advisory Committee just may prove to be his Surfer Rosa. Let’s just hope he doesn’t end up in the studio with Nickelback or Ozzy.


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