From the sound of things, not all that much has changed for
Julian Koster
in the nine years since his
Music Tapes
project made its somewhat perplexing initial appearance with
First Imaginary Symphony for Nomad
.
Music Tapes for Clouds and Tornadoes
finds the elusive, eccentric
Koster
still fixated on homemade and otherwise unconventional instruments (including such creations as a "fun machine" and "the Seven Foot Tall Metronome," along with his trusty banjos and otherworldly singing saws); still futzing around with archaic recording methods (no Edison cylinders this time around, but the credits do list a record lathe, a wire recorder and ribbon microphone from the 1930s, and several pieces of equipment from the '50s and '60s); and still warbling dreamily to, for, and about insentient entities and natural forces (in this case, as the title suggests, primarily meteorological phenomena, as well as reindeer). There are some definite musical developments here, most notably a shift away from the jumbled sound collage aesthetic to a more direct and melodic song-based approach, but the most striking change may be one of context. Whereas
Nomad
was released at the height of
the Elephant 6 Recording Company
's prolificacy and success, and got somewhat overlooked in the shuffle, the intervening years have seen the
E6
collective's output dwindle and then essentially halt altogether, while its stature and the cult fascination with its works (most prominently
Neutral Milk Hotel
's
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
, to which
was a significant contributor) have continued to increase; the upshot being that considerable attention was paid to this new offering.
That attention turns out to be absolutely warranted, for
Clouds and Tornadoes
is a fascinating and often compelling creation that effectively constitutes a vigorous and unexpected resuscitation of the long-dormant
Elephant 6
spirit -- particularly when taken in conjunction with
the Apples in Stereo
's entirely different
New Magnetic Wonder
(the only other major record since 2002 to bear the
insignia, and in some ways this album's polar opposite, although both feature an extensive list of contributions from many of the collective's musicians). Specifically,
Clouds
marks the return of
's more idiosyncratic and less directly pop-oriented tendencies -- it does, indeed, evoke the sepia-toned antiquarianism and fragile intimacy of
NMH
, and to a lesser extent the fractured, surrealist fuzzy warbles of the
Olivia Tremor Control
axis. All that said, this is incontrovertibly
's record, the product of his singular vision, which can only really be taken on its own unique terms. Many listeners are likely to be put off by his unapologetically wailing bleat of a voice, which he strains to the point of maximum expressive poignancy (or vexation, depending on your take); similarly, his quaintly whimsical lyrics are liable to come off to less charitable listeners as hokey, insipid babble. But those either charmed by or willing to indulge these excesses enough to engage with the strange music contained here will find much to marvel at, both in the album's songs -- which gesture intriguingly at fusty folk forms, bygone back-porch balladry, golden-age silver-screen pop, marching band music, and more without really coming close to anything recognizable, or certainly anything remotely like conventional indie rock -- and in its sounds themselves, which are at least equally important in conveying you off to its curious, self-contained little world. ~ K. Ross Hoffman