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Lost Wisdom pt. 2

by Mount Eerie with Julie Doiron

supported by
Emily Violet
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Emily Violet This is a brave record, and the lyrics - bookstores, support groups, and enduring love - bring a grace and power to the gentle music. Favorite track: Belief pt. 2.
discoinfernal thumbnail
discoinfernal This album got somewhat overshadowed by what Phil released before (and after) – which is a shame, because it easily holds up with his best work. I went through a crippling breakup around the time of its release, and it spoke directly to what I experienced. Less catharsis and more reflection. The first Lost Wisdom spent a lot of time exploring the insecurities of new love, so this feels like a natural sequel. Julie Doiron remains a great musical partner. I hope they do more in the future. Favorite track: Love Without Possession.
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aantuan thank you both for this Favorite track: Enduring The Waves.
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Belief 07:23
Belief Through all of my life I waver back and forth between a belief and not believing in anything, in any solid shape the unfettered mind, a deeper understanding that holds nothing that lets sounds come in the ear and just pass through without deciding what it was, if it was a jet or a dragon. It was merely a sound without a name or a picture. It was every possible thing at once. I barely ever get to be in this state, just quick flashes by surprise when I’m like standing by a car, squinting my eyes, caught off guard and unpicturesque. I used to sing this one song all the time that I made up to try to cut through when I’d find myself caught up, entranced in certainty, staring at a hill. It went, “Let’s get out of the romance” over and over “Let’s get out of the romance” like “please can I go through this life unscared to see that nothing stays the same, no one knows anything. When I was younger and didn’t know I used to walk around basically begging the sky for some calamity to challenge my foundation when I was young. So imagine what it was like to watch up close a loved one die and then look into the pit. I lived on the edge of it and had to stay there. Joanne Kyger said “We fight incredibly through a hideous mishmash of inheritance, forgiving for deeper stamina. That we go on, the world always goes on, breaking us with its changes until our form, exhausted, runs true.” Out of nowhere love returned. I saw what looked like a god who walks among us. I met her. We fell so in love. She is angelic, miraculous, I totally lost my mind and poured everything into this sea, this ocean, and when I came to I saw my face in a store window’s reflection and there was fear behind those eyes. Now I’m back where I was when I was 20, trying to stop clinging to a dream and let an old idea of love dissipate back into formless rolling waves of discomfort and uncertainty, the true state of all things. I want to wade out into dark water hand in hand with you. I played this song for you and all you heard were the words “discomfort and uncertainty”. You asked “How do we get back to how it was?” and that’s when I started to know that I might be in it alone devoted to an unknown, homelessness enthroned us and the kids all wind-blown courageous as bone lying down in a storm steadfast, newborn, a house with no door exhausted form in your eyes I found home I believed you and dove Oh my god when we swam together for a little bit.
When I Walk Out Of The Museum When I walk out of the museum the wall of sudden light makes me crinkle up my nose. Standing coat half on between marble columns I sneeze into the wind. When I walk out of the museum I have centuries of dust behind my eyes. I hunch a little bit, from the culminated weight of all these other peoples’ ideas. I see a tipped over garbage can blowing in the street. When I walk out of the museum I think about a snorkeler surfacing tangled in kelp. That is me: writhing, wild attention, glancing around. The huge museum door slams behind me and I flinch. In all of these brief flashes of momentary clarity, the emptiness that cuts through is like a bowl beneath the sky empty, not yet pregnant, fertile, without form. It terrifies me, the raw possibility. I want to go back inside but when I walk out of the museum everything I see seems rippling and alive, on a freezing January day, everything: the museum the garbage the internet the constellations all collapse into a heap. Light floods out from this compost pile.
Enduring The Waves Reading about Buddhism and listening to Xasthur on the subway in New York City back when you were my home not that long ago. This life upends me again and again. (This churning life of avalanches, it spins.) Each night now my mind in the dark brings it all roaring back. (Each day plummets into night, now my mind in the dark.) That you could not bear me and the wind that came in through the door. (Can I bear the uncertainty that arrives on the wind that came in through the door?) That I can not hold you, our devotions mismatched. (Holding you in my mind, I don't really see. Waking up surprised with no one around and wondering "who?") We could have bridged the gap but it yawned and swallowed this world of ours that's now yours and mine. This life bulldozed by ridiculous sensitivities, seeing your face everywhere and there's no escape, (This life clinging to rocks in wind, seeing this lost chance,) except what if we could go further in? (we were each others' reward for enduring the waves. "The wages of dying is love." like the poem says. As long as the one last leap into the dark is whole hearted. It almost was.)
Love Without Possession What would be the use in becoming a symbol of walking desolation? Awash in multiple griefs, elaborating on more anguish. What glows beneath? (beneath all the pain and anguish) Love that doesn’t die. (magma embroidering) “Love”, a small word unable to hold while we stretch at its meaning. Now this: what’s this new version of love that intrudes into the peace I thought I had? This love has no recipient, but still lies there smoldering. Indifferent stars in the night sky watch me while I churn, still holding this love for you, without a thing to do but try to live in this uninvited liberation without a home in your life or heart, without a shelter at all. Exposed and burning still, this unattended fire for no one emanates a wasted warmth on the wind. Pushing against the edges of what it means to give. Lost wisdom in the sparks that rise and die. Even if I never get to see you again I’ll know that when we collided we both broke each other open. Rose petals were blustering and I’m determined still to hold this open door even now as it devastates. I wake up gasping in the void again. Speak sky blow breaths exhale to dissipate the always gathering clouds of yearning memory of all that we foresaw laid out before us unlived. Dropped from a height back into the open ocean, it’s all horizon. This sky mirroring emptiness is where I first found you.
Real Lost Wisdom Now I’m frantically grasping at wisps of dissipating wisdom as we disband. This is the wealth I would like to leave to my daughter when she lets go of my hand. These words. These hopes we almost exemplified. Wisdom lost, undiscovered paintings in a cave we almost went inside. If any descendants ever somehow find any evidence of us on it I’ll inscribe: Love vehemently (like we did) without averting your eyes. For love it’s worth it. Look into the fire. Don’t flinch away when, no matter what, monstrous fears will arise. If there's a cataclysm and you have to go inside please at least let some wind blow in. Take yet another breath and stay right there courageous and kind with love permeating, your doors and windows wide. Look right into the fire. Look right into the fire. Look right into the fire. Look right into the fire.
Widows 03:02
Widows It’s almost Mother’s Day Me and the other widows will commiserate. Alone at Montessori again straddling two worlds between the crush of single parenting and the need for wailing in the woods around a slash pile burning into the night with tear crusted eyes. I know I’m overcompensating in this PTSD disorientation from my brief time in the rich part of the city. Now my hands stink like salmon skin left out in the rain in the ash of the fire from last night, I haven’t bathed in a while and no one’s near me. (If there’s significance in where you live let it all go and follow love and intuition.) Today the tabloids told the world you separated me. (and see what’s there) My phone began dinging more than usual. (in the open sky) It was just like the day they found out we’d gotten married. (because we’re all gonna die.) Unwanted attention from an inhumane delirious absurd other world that keeps trying to eat you. I woke up quivering, raw, and heartbroken again. I took my daughter to the garbage dump and rifled through the free pile and stood next to pit. The crows and ravens circling spoke to us and we spoke back to them but nothing is real except this one thing: Please remember at the bookstore in the poetry corner upstairs I slept with my head on your lap.
Pink Light 01:57
Pink Light Our bones do blow away in pink light and in pink light we found each other in the spring dripping with flowers. Now in wind filled with human remains the petals won’t stop blowing. With each setting sun asking could there be another spring?
Belief pt. 2 04:42
Belief pt. 2 I believed in love and I still do. I’m not going to seal up my heart. I still do. I believed in love and in you. Now walled away, I know it’s in you. I love you. I love you. There’s an ocean that awaits us spreading out on all sides. We could swim, we could dissolve there. I love you. I am for you. If ever the bonfire that I carry around could warm you again, I will be out here in the weather for you glowing. I believe and now I walk to the edge of delusion. Divorced and estranged, staying back with my parents. I believe though because I know who you are and that the world we could share, the one we lived in for a moment still lies fertile in the dark. I go there. Alone there. I can only offer my love. I love you. I release you. At the edge of this ocean I stand and pour out the glass of water I brought. There’s nothing else I can give but love.


recorded May 26th to June 1st, 2019 nowhere

released Nov. 8th, 2019 by
P.W. Elverum & Sun
box 1561
Anacortes, Wash.
U.S.A. 98221

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released November 8, 2019

with Julie Doiron: singing
photos by Rin-san Jeff Miller

digital mastering by Nicholas Wilbum at the Unknown, Anacortes, Wash.
vinyl mastering by John Golden, Ventura, Cal.
jackets by Stoughton Printing, City of Industry, Cal.
vinyl pressing by Cascade, Portland, Ore.


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Mount Eerie Anacortes, Washington

on Lummi, Samish, Klallam, Tulalip and W̱SÁNEĆ land

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