(Phil Elverum, aka Mount Eerie, previously of The Microphones)First, we (John Smyth, Andy and myself) were standing around the merch table at this all ages, 'RRR Performance Space' Mount Eerie/Lucky Dragons gig, looking at and picking up various albums when this voice was like "You guys got any questions or anything?"
I looked up and Phil was right there, reclining in a plastic chair, with his accent and his little eyes and his ill-fitting clothes and his vaguely passive aggressive manner. And he was so real. And so close. I freaked out on the inside.
I mumbled something incoherent and whisked away the guys to a safe distance. They hadn't noticed the presence of Phil so I broke the news to 'em. We'd just met Phil, and he was vaguely rude. And Andy was like "Why do you think that's Phil?" and I was like "Cause I've seen what Phil looks like and it's that". At this point we're kinda freaking out. Can we go back?
We're all nervously glancing over at the merch table and he's not talking to anyone or doing anything really except sitting, so eveeentually we decide to head over and tell him how great he is.
I don't think that Phil cared really, how much we'd enjoyed his music, or how useful and cool the 'Headwaters' is, or how 'It Was Hot, We Stayed In The Water' was in our opinion, a severely overlooked record in comparison to 'The Glow pt. 2', but he was polite.
Here's the thing: my understanding of Phil and the way he artistically operates leaves very little room for caring about what three people in Australia think, or even what anyone thinks. His gift is his ability to recognise and explore his own personal idiosyncratic obsessions and views, without regard to anyone else's taste.
Cause on one hand you have populism and impersonal pop music, and on the other you have selfishness and intense artistry. (Of course there are tangents and exceptions - this is an idealogical observation as opposed to a literal one.)
So in conclusion: I knew that Phil wouldn't care. I needed for him not to care.
But we told him anyway.
Because it was an honest thing to do, and I thought I'd regret it if I took the 'cool' option and not said anything, or worse, talked casually about the weather or some shit.
I've learnt so much about myself and adaptive spirituality and isolation from this man, and as such, neither of us are amenable to instant social 'clicking'. And that's almost totally fine by me.
Then the show was great. Lucky Dragons blew us away. And Phil hyptonised and connected us to everything.
.
.
