Despite the 10-ton riffs and jackhammer percussion that dominate a number of these meticulously sequenced tracks, Wind’s Poem is in many ways one of the year’s best ambient records, at least as far as the term implies suggestion over explanation, texture over structure. As such, the album exists more within the crevices of black metal, treacherously realized as monolithic walls of distortion subside for more concentrated breaths of reflection. To this extent, the record represents something of the inverse of Black Cascade, one of the year’s most impressive accomplishments in true black metal from Olympia, Washington’s Wolves in the Throne Room. Whereas Black Cascade drops swiftly and heavily, rarely pausing to take a breath over the course of its runtime, Wind’s Poem instead resides in the calm before such impending deluge, as lengthy sequences of the record swirl around in a sort of ambiguous vapor, lying dormant, prone to the inevitable uprising.

And when these moments do hit? My god, look out. “Wind’s Dark Poem,” the album’s blistering opening track, immediately stakes a claim in the territory of black metal as it’s overrun by untold layers distortion and a characteristic rush of double-drum ferocity. It’s like all the peripheral elements of the Phil Elverum sound accentuated and pushed to the absolute breaking point. About halfway through, Elverum’s indelibly unaffected vox enters the mix, tempering the onslaught as the proverbial forest burns to ash all around. The remainder of Wind’s Poem then is reconciliation of sorts or, more appropriately, a rebuilding – a rebuilding, that is, of disparate sonic elements that occasionally flare back up into a maelstrom of violent pandemonium.

Continuing the elemental imagery that Elverum so often intones, there are appropriately many moments on Wind’s Poem that sound something like the aural equivalent of frigid light attempting to break through pitch darkness: the barely audible piano suffocating beneath “Lost Wisdom Pt. 2”, the 11-minutes of sighing organ which comprise nearly the entirety of “Through the Trees,” or the rickety percussive taps of “Between Two Mysteries,” which itself is paradoxically anchored by the appropriation of “Laura Palmer’s Theme,” Angelo Badalamenti’s inextricably haunting refrain from the David Lynch created television series “Twin Peaks.” These elements build slowly, almost unconsciously, as they evaporate in the wake of each successive wave of textural tumult. As if being rewarded for braving such cold and treacherous terrain, the listener is finally met with an olive branch of sorts as the densely realized unease of the album’s first half gives way to a stretch of songs in the album’s final quarter in which Elevrum squints uneasily as his eyes nervously open to a new dawn, one perhaps more disquieting than even the night from which he emerged.

Wind’s Poem succeeds as both the most substantial album recorded under the Mount Eerie banner to date, as well as Elevrum’s most album-oriented release since 2001’s The Glow Pt. 2, his landmark outing under his original moniker, The Microphones. Wind’s Poem also joins the likes of Grizzly Bear’s Veckatimest and The Antlers’ Hospice as one of the more sonically interesting recordings of the year. It’s an album swimming in atmospheric intensity, yet for every unruly outburst like “(something)” (approximately the 117th time Elevrum has recycled that exact same song title) there is a serene passage of ominous beauty such as the funereal “Wind Speaks” or stark solace of closer “Stone’s Ode”.

The seeds of this particular sound were sown within the gathering clouds of the Black Wooden Ceiling Opening EP as well as last year’s Burzum-referencing Lost Wisdom mini-LP, yet Wind’s Poem represents the first fully integrated fusion of folk intimacy and black metal extremity that Elverum has attempted. It is at once representative of the characteristic Mount Eerie sound and a deviation from it. As such, the album feels like Elevrum’s first significant step forward since adopting the moniker almost five years ago. Undaunted and subsisting on its own regenerative ambiance, Wind’s Poem awaits your presence. Do not proceed lightly; you need it more than it needs you.

Last Word:

Phil Elverum’s third official album as Mount Eerie boldly unleashes black metal discharge from the uneasy foundations of roving folk, heroically staking claim as one of 2009's most unique offerings.

Review By:
Jordan Cronk, Music Editor

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