The Microphones' The Glow Pt. 2: The glow that never fades
Some albums don't just play; they haunt. The Glow Pt. 2 is one of them. Released in 2001 by The Microphones - Phil Elverum's deeply personal, wonderfully chaotic project - the album is an emotional and sonic labyrinth. It's raw, overwhelming, and strangely comforting, like hearing the ocean rage from the safety of a lighthouse.
A follow-up to It Was Hot, We Stayed in the Water, this record is bigger in scope, but not in a "let's make this more accessible" kind of way. It's sprawling, messy, and occasionally frustrating - but that's exactly why it's brilliant. It's the sound of someone trying to capture something ungraspable, fumbling, and in doing so, creating something more honest than precision ever could.
A storm that breathes
If you're looking for clean production, you're in the wrong place. Every instrument here sounds like it was recorded inside a cardboard box - and somehow, that works. The album is full of tape hiss, sudden volume shifts, and moments where the mix almost collapses under its own weight. It's as if the songs are breathing, exhaling distortion and inhaling silence.
Take the title track: it begins with a driving, hypnotic rhythm, drenched in reverb and cymbals crashing like waves. Then, just as you settle into it, the song deconstructs itself. The guitars feel like they're being swallowed by the air. Elverum's voice - fragile yet determined - floats through it all, delivering lines that feel both deeply personal and completely unknowable.
And that's the magic of this album: it doesn't hold your hand. It invites you into a world where melodies drift in and out like passing thoughts, where folk, noise, and lo-fi production collide in unpredictable ways.
Moments of clarity in the chaos
Despite its storm-like nature, The Glow Pt. 2 is full of moments of startling beauty. Tracks like I Want Wind to Blow and Instrumental feel like watching the sun break through thick clouds. The acoustic guitars shimmer, and for a moment, everything feels at peace. But the calm never lasts long. Just when you think you've found solid ground, the album shifts again - pulling you back into its unpredictable tide.
Lyrically, Elverum operates in a space that feels both deeply personal and oddly universal. He sings about fire, water, wind - natural elements that mirror inner turmoil. Lines repeat like mantras, sometimes whispered, sometimes screamed. It feels less like storytelling and more like someone working through something in real-time, letting us listen in.
Why the imperfections make it perfect
This album isn't for everyone. Some might find it exhausting or too abstract. But for those willing to immerse themselves in its world, The Glow Pt. 2 offers something rare: a completely unfiltered emotional experience. It doesn't try to be perfect. It doesn't smooth out its edges. And in doing so, it captures something most polished albums never do - raw, unvarnished feeling.
Would it have benefited from cleaner production? Maybe. But then it wouldn't be The Glow Pt. 2. It wouldn't feel like finding an old, tattered journal filled with scribbled poetry and smudged ink - beautiful because of, not in spite of, its imperfections.
Final verdict: a beautiful mess worth getting lost in
24 years later, this album still resonates. It's not just music - it's an atmosphere, a feeling, an experience. Like a dream that lingers long after you wake up, The Glow Pt. 2 stays with you, echoing in the back of your mind. It might not be perfect, but honestly, that's what makes it unforgettable.
FINAL SCORE: 9/10