Neutral Milk Hotel - On Avery Island

On Avery Island. It's a salt dome in Louisiana, where Tabasco is made. It's also the first full album by Neutral Milk Hotel.

You're supposed to relate it to Beck, Flaming Lips, and Guided By Voices, all siblings of the musical marriage of John Lennon pop with Syd Barrett psychosis. Sure, you can hear all of that in there, but there's something different happening too. This is the sound of depression itself. The grotesque distorted lows, a middle layer of intentionally poorly recorded cheap sounding instruments, on top of which floats an abstract but clearly personal string of folk songs about how horrible it is to live life as a mere function.

Nobody has much to say about the confusing juxtaposition of dirty and clean recording. Yes it's a 4-track recording (DIY home recording was the whole label roster's main interest), but Robert Schneider clearly knew what he was doing. The vocals, trombone, and percussion are crystal clear. It's the fuzz bass and guitars that get the full recycled tape from the garbage can, recorded in said garbage can treatment. You're supposed to be singing those amazing melodies over top of the deep nausea and suicidal malaise. It really is a sad carnival in your ears.

It's not lyrically morose or offensive, but it sure isn't happy or hopeful. Just like the toll bridge to the actual island, you're free to leave but you gotta pay to get back in, especially if you live there.

I love it (just in case my descriptions were confusing you). Lots of people say it's actually better than Aeroplane, but that depends on what you mean by "better." It's definitely sadder, harsher, and less stable sounding; as in this is before the mental snap, In the Aeroplane... after. Obviously, you're not going to crank this up at the gym or at your next patio party, but as a reminder of how much some people hated being alive in the late 90s without a) resorting to faking having a good time, or b) not being alive anymore, it's pretty enjoyable.

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