We're at Phil Elverum's house and he's making us coffee.

If he seems distracted it might be because he's about to release an album and tour behind it, traveling to California and New York. Then he'll play his first ever show in Everett before going to Japan to tour some more.

In the late 1990s and early 2000s the records Phil Elverum put out as The Microphones were lo-fi pop gems. He was a quirky noisemaker pushing the limits of analog recording and making Beach Boys-meets-Beat Happening tunes. Then he adopted the Mount Eerie moniker, and his songs began to shift to more of a introspective lyrical focus.

Phil, an Anacortes-based musician, is an independent guy even for an "indie" artist.

His records are all recorded by himself, and most have been distributed by himself. He prints, packages, and ships his own vinyl and merchandise. He creates all of the visual art for his musical releases. As multimedia artist he also produces photographs, books, prints, and music videos.

Elverum makes art on his own terms, following his muse. And his muse has led him far and wide. No two of his projects are truly alike. In his time he’s recorded a black metal album, set up website for his oddball cartoons, and remixed his own songs into autotuned MIDI tracks.

Phil's recent album A Crow Looked At Me (2017) made the New York Times list of The Best Albums of 2017. It’s a difficult record to listen to, if only because of the emotional weight. It unflinchingly details the death of Phil’s late wife Genevieve. 

His new album Now This (released the day after our visit) continues this theme of grappling with loss. 

Death and sadness aren't new sentiments in art, but rarely has anyone written so candidly and eloquently about mortality than Mr. Elverum. 

Live in Everett: What's your idea of Everett? Do you ever go there or hang out there?

Phil Elverum: No. [Laughs] My idea of Everett… growing up, the smell of the pulp mill on I-5 made us call it “Ever-rot.” I went to a Sons of Norway dinner there. That’s about it. I know about this labor massacre that happened 100 years ago. So, yeah… the stench and the massacre. [Laughs] I’m not going to win any friends saying that.

LIEv: Everett has an insular arts community, much like Anacortes or Olympia. Can you talk about the value of collaborating with artists in a community? I’m thinking about your early records which were, like, Calvin Johnson, Mirah, The Blow, Kyle Field, and Karl Blau. The K Records scene. Is there value in bouncing ideas off other people and borrowing lyrics?

PE: Yes I’m sure there is. I’m not that well suited toward collaboration. I’ve spent periods of my life in really vibrant communities of artists. Especially when I lived in Olympia for five years. It was a special time. All those names you listed, that was during that time. But even still I made all of those Microphones records pretty much by myself. I think the presence of the community informed the work. But [my work] is all personal. Some people thrive with collaboration. I seem to be more stuck in my own head.

LIEv: Do you work better by yourself? 

PE: Yes, absolutely. 

LIEv: In other interviews you’ve mentioned the poet Gary Snyder as an influence. He writes and talks a lot about bioregionalism. Like, areas being conceived of as watersheds and terrain characteristics instead of geopolitical boundaries. Is it conceivable to think of Anacortes and Everett as being part of the same “Puget Sound” scene, along with music out of Olympia and Bellingham (i.e. grunge and riot grrl, K Recs lo-fi pop)? Is there still a regional sound in your estimation or is that all going away with Spotify and the Internet? I know you travel a lot. I wonder if, when you come back, there’s like a specific Northwest sound?

PE: There might be, but I don’t feel like I’m qualified to answer because I don’t pay enough attention to what people are doing. But I think your hypothesis might be right. I don’t know if it applies to music. It must. I think in general a sense of regional identity is greatly diminished… because of not just Spotify but the Internet. We’re sort of placeless. I think that’s why I’ve focused extra hard on that through my quote-unquote “work”, naming my thing Mount Eerie for example, naming it after this concrete place here. And just being here, saying “I’m from Anacortes and these records were made in Anacortes. You know, linking myself to this place in as many ways as possible because I feel like the idea of a band being from somewhere is…

LIEv: You could’ve said you’re from Seattle. Or the Seattle area.

PE: Yeah. And people say it. Or people don’t say anything. They’re just like “we’re from the Internet.” That’s what most people say. 

LIEv: It seems like people are kind of transitory. A lot of people just move… you get to know them for a few years then they go someplace else.

PE: Yeah, and maybe that’s always been true but I think in addition to that our mental lives, even if we are living in the same building for ten years, our mental lives are transitory. We’re not participating culturally with what’s around us so much because we live through our devices, through the internet. So it almost  doesn’t matter where your physical body is anymore because you’re online. A lot is lost with the doors that the internet opens. 

LIEv: Is that the thinking behind [The Microphones song] Get Off the Internet? 

PE: I guess so, yeah. Well, actually there’s a Le Tigre song called Get Off the Internet I think. I haven’t even heard that song, but I heard they have a song called that. And I was like, that’s a great idea I’m going to write a song like that, too.

LIEv: How do you balance being a dad and making art?

PE: It’s hard. It’s just more logistics. Parenting in general is constantly trying to arrange for childcare to get a moment to do your thing. It’s sort of automatic. I have no desire to watch TV, for example, anymore. When I have free time I’m like “okay, this is my chance. I can either have a shower for the first time in, like, two weeks or I can write down these ideas that have been bursting in my head." During the time I was recording I was pretty filthy because I would always choose work over self care. [Laughs]

LIEv: Art over hygiene.

PE: Yeah. You have to do it.

LIEv: Well, that’s about it. I’m excited to have you play in Everett.

PE: I’m looking forward to it as well. That theatre looks really nice.

LIEv: It's for sale right now. Two million dollars and change.

PE: Okay, I’ll start saving up.

Catch MOUNT EERIE live at Fisherman's Village music festival.

 He plays at 5 PM on Saturday, March 31st at the Historic Everett Theatre. 

Christa Porter enjoys photographing both candid and staged subjects. She tends to experiment with shadows and different color schemes. In her spare time she likes to play music and paint. Richard Porter writes for Live in Everett. They play music together as The Porters.