On this excruciating LP, Phil Elverum narrated his grief following the death of his wife months previous. The act was not unlike ushering a live theatre audience in front of an ongoing tragedy. Elverum’s writing is almost wholly empirical, while the acoustics maintain simple and innocent motions, occasionally sounding unaware of what they are accompanying. In the busy field of death in ‘art’, ‘A Crow Looked At Me’ is alone, shrouded by nettles. This record is one thing: true. There are many more things that it is not: reassuring, hopeful, musical are just a few. I listened to it once. I do not believe I will listen to it again.
A favourite: ‘Seaweed’