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Postmodern Blues
by JIM WINDERS
“THE MOST HOLY SHIT”: NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL
Three musical discoveries have brought
me joy during the past year, during which I
have been in deliberate and carefully chosen
exile in New York City (not a bad place to
hang out) and Paris (not too shabby either
— zut alors r ). One was (is) the soulful singing
and playing of Kelly Joe Phelps, who resides
in the unlikely spot of Vancouver Wash
(expect more writing soon about him).
Another was (is) the ancient polyphonic
singing of Corsica, easier to come by in
Europe than in the US. “Chicken skin music”
for sure But finally, and maybe most obses
sively. this past year brought me the music
of Neutral Milk Hotel, the wondrous gifts of
Jeff Mangum and associates by way of
Ruston. l.a.. Denver. Colo, (where both
albums have been recorded). Athens. Ga
and apparently other places.
Let the disclaimers begin: I have not lived
in Athens for almost three years, have never
heard any of the Elephant 6 bands live, and
thus have no direct experience of the joyous
mayhem they (including Olivia Tremor
Control. Elf Power. Apples in Stereo) create
in person, especially, by all accounts.
Neutral Milk Hotel. I also had to be out of
town in March when the latter group plaved
at The Knitting Factory So if yours is the
kind of radical solipsism that says no one
dare comment on something not experi
enced directlv. stop reading now
Telephone conversations with Richard
Fausset and regular references to NMH in
Flagpole during the last several months had
stirred my curiosity about Jeff Mangum's
project, but the day I finally confronted des
tiny and surrendered completely to rabid
fandom came this winter when I happened
into Kun's Underground in the West Village
immediately I was captivated by the sound
of something playing that seemed like a wild
combination of the Violent Femmes and
Fairport Convention, i lunged toward the
counter behind which a woman stood work
ing. The in-store security guard eyed me sus-
piciouslv "What are you playing!" I demand
ed to know She wasn't sure, and called to a
co-worker to find out "Neutral Milk Hotel”
was the eventual reply The track playing
was the powerful “Ghost.” and it still takes
me to the fair
So that's Neutra 1 Milk H del. I smiled to
myself A week or so later. I was immersed in
their two releases On Awry Island and In the
Aeroplane Over the Sea I got the latter and
more recent one first, and prefer it. despite
admiring its predecessor. Both allrums
demand to be listened to straight through,
and that in fact is how I experienced them
the first time(s). For that matter, each selec
tion pretty much segues into the next so as
to defy any attempt to isolate a particular
track Ironically, my first listen occurred
close to the publication in The Sen York
Times Magazine of an article whose author
describes what he calls “the death of the
album." His view is that digital technology
and related changes in format and length of
recordings have ended the practice of focus
ing on the whole work
Clearly he writes as a fellow Boomer for
whom records like Sgt Pepper's or What's
Going On arrived like carefully constructed
bulletins from the front lines of the cultural
revolution. Yet here, courtesy of Neutral Milk
Hotel, was a record at the century's end that
did precisely what this author proclaimed
was no longer feasible In fact I iisted to In
the Aeroplane Over the Sim with exactly the
kind of riveted attention I initially gave the
above-mentioned examples. Jeff Mangum
and friends have listened to lots and lots of
music and have h.ad the courage to charge
ahead and play just what they want to play
m whatever combinations, and without ask
ing anyone's permission This makes for
challenging music
that will connect dif
ferently with listen
ers who come along
for the ride, depend
ing of course on the
musical baggage
they bring to the
experience
My first time
through. I heard
echoes of favorite
bands with exuber
ant styles like Cam
per van Beethoven.
Violent Femmes, and
Hoi Dog Pondering.
And then I started
paying attention to
all those crazy horns
What was it that
reminded me of The
Kinks' song "David
Watts" from their
exquisite LP
Something Else?
Maybe it was the huffing-puffing euphonium
played by Scott Spillane The players start to
sound like some crazed version of a Salvation
Army band at points. I halfway expect to hear
them break into ‘The Eggplant That Ate
Chicago." by Dr. West’s Medicine Show- and
Junk Band In fact, if memory serves, that’s
an association I made upon listening to a
tune by Synthetic Flying Machine several
years ago. That's the band Jeff Mangum was
in when he first moved to Athens, and their
demo made the rounds at Flagpole. I had for
gotten about them until reviewing the Merge
Records press-kit and stumbling upon a refer
ence to this erstwhile band.
“King of Carrot Flowers." which opens
Aeroplane, is immediately captivating, as
Mangum laconically delivers a description of
surreal domestic violence underscored by
the funereal tones of what sounds to me like
a harmonium (though that instrument is not
credited) Before you have time to recover
from the initial shock of this song, a clever
segue takes you into Parts Two and Three of
“Carrot Flowers.” kicked off by Mangum's
urgently sincere line "I love you. Jesus
Christ " This is a fresh shock, one-upping
“Jesus is Just All Right With Me" bv The
Byrds, as well as Gordon Ganns line "I love
the Lord of Hosts" from The Violent Femmes’
“Black Girls "
Next comes the loopy, trippy title track
and then “Two-Headed Boy." a song that sug
gests its composer put in some time visiting
a few "roadside attractions." Though similar
in theme the song is harder-hitting and far
less ironic in stance
than Vic Chesnutt's
“Sleeping Man."
Tension mounts on
the next selection.
“The Fool." where
Neutral Milk Hotel
sounds like a New
Orleans funeral band
on the verge of
breaking out of their
dirge and into the
second line. And.
indeed, all hell does
break loose on
“Holland. 1945."
Then, no sooner are
you catching your
breath than you
chortle with delight
at the lyrics of “Com
munist Daughter."
This whimsically
impertinent tune
wasted no time mov
ing right into my
head and putting its muddy boots all over
my mental furniture It shows no sign of
vacating the premises any time soon It’s an
addictive melody, and a soothing balm at the
position in occupies in Aeroplanes sequence.
I'm completely convinced of Jeff
Mangum's seriousness. His is no slacker’s
attitude “Oh Comely." which follows
“Communist Daughter." sounds especially
earnest, even if the mood is punctured by
the background voice heard at the end of the
performance. "Holy shit'" someone yells, and
I think what a good slogan that is for this
music. This is really holy shit and. it goes
.vithout saying by this point, really good
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