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Authors: Kim Cooper
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that I was always trying to get, even though I didn’t know how to get it. So that’s the fuzz.”
If Robert thought he was simply entering into phase two of the creative partnership that had been honed with
On Avery Island
, he underestimated the passionate connection that the band felt for the songs, and how involved they would be in the studio. For the band, too, working with Robert—on one level an outsider who sought to control and capture what they were doing, on the other a fellow musician who expected, and who Jeff expected, to participate as a member of the band—was a big change from the free-form style of their all-night rehearsals and chaotic live interpretations of the material. Jeremy recalls, “It took a while for these two sort of separate creative identities to merge, and when they did, things really expanded. I don’t think Robert was prepared for the band, and the level of input that we wanted to give in the studio. And we weren’t prepared forRobert’s ideas about our songs—yes, they were really Jeff’s songs, but the rest of us felt very close to them, so close that they became ours as well. Adding Robert completely took them to the next level. And I think he realized that Neutral Milk Hotel with the four of us really worked. He produced the record, but I think he was also a member of the band.”
Julian says, “The sound of the album was a marriage between Robert’s recording aesthetic and the band’s
sound
, because the four of us had grown one—a confoundingly distinct and powerful one that we all recognized. We
encouraged
the fuzzing of microphones to capture the energy of things. Robert’s instincts always ran towards control, separation and the even keel; mine and Jeremy’s towards freedom, energy, white noise and chaos; Jeff’s towards
more fuzz!
I remember wanting to capture a quality present in the cassette tapes, and in the room when this music was made, that couldn’t be captured in a controlled sonic environment like Robert had created for
Avery
. And Jeremy and I convinced Robert to let us all play at once on a few occasions, like on ‘The Fool,’ against his better judgment.”
During the sessions, “The King of Carrot Flowers Pts. Two & Three” again raised eyebrows, Martyn Leaper’s specifically. When he first heard Jeff sing “I love you Jesus Christ,” he didn’t know how to take it. As someone who’d always had problems with organized religion, he was repelled. But as a songwriter, he was stunned by the profound and fearless honesty with which Jeff was expressing his faith. Jeff didn’t seem to give a damn what anyone thought of him, or if he seemed uncool. And it’s this naked honesty, Martyn thinks, that has brought so many people to the record—even folks who aren’t themselves religious aretouched by Jeff’s faith and his guts.
Some songs were recorded live as a band, with overdubs layered over the basic tracks. Surprisingly, “Oh Comely,” at 8:18 the longest song on the album, was recorded in a single take by Jeff by himself. The other musicians clustered around Robert in the control booth and in the tiny adjacent room for what they thought was just a test take as Jeff tried out the mic placement. Robert remembers feeling claustrophobic, with maybe twenty people standing around him. The rooms were laid out so Robert could hear Jeff’s playing through the speakers, but also ambiently through the air. Although he was only supposed to play a verse or two, Jeff powered through the song, stunning his friends with a beautiful, passionate performance no less amazing for the uncontrolled moments when he veers out of tune. At the finish, everyone burst into spontaneous cheers and applause—you can hear someone, possibly Scott Spillane, yell “Holy shit!” at the end of the track if you listen closely. The final version is almost exactly what Jeff played that day, with the addition of horn overdubs and a couple of places where Robert went in and
If Robert thought he was simply entering into phase two of the creative partnership that had been honed with
On Avery Island
, he underestimated the passionate connection that the band felt for the songs, and how involved they would be in the studio. For the band, too, working with Robert—on one level an outsider who sought to control and capture what they were doing, on the other a fellow musician who expected, and who Jeff expected, to participate as a member of the band—was a big change from the free-form style of their all-night rehearsals and chaotic live interpretations of the material. Jeremy recalls, “It took a while for these two sort of separate creative identities to merge, and when they did, things really expanded. I don’t think Robert was prepared for the band, and the level of input that we wanted to give in the studio. And we weren’t prepared forRobert’s ideas about our songs—yes, they were really Jeff’s songs, but the rest of us felt very close to them, so close that they became ours as well. Adding Robert completely took them to the next level. And I think he realized that Neutral Milk Hotel with the four of us really worked. He produced the record, but I think he was also a member of the band.”
Julian says, “The sound of the album was a marriage between Robert’s recording aesthetic and the band’s
sound
, because the four of us had grown one—a confoundingly distinct and powerful one that we all recognized. We
encouraged
the fuzzing of microphones to capture the energy of things. Robert’s instincts always ran towards control, separation and the even keel; mine and Jeremy’s towards freedom, energy, white noise and chaos; Jeff’s towards
more fuzz!
I remember wanting to capture a quality present in the cassette tapes, and in the room when this music was made, that couldn’t be captured in a controlled sonic environment like Robert had created for
Avery
. And Jeremy and I convinced Robert to let us all play at once on a few occasions, like on ‘The Fool,’ against his better judgment.”
During the sessions, “The King of Carrot Flowers Pts. Two & Three” again raised eyebrows, Martyn Leaper’s specifically. When he first heard Jeff sing “I love you Jesus Christ,” he didn’t know how to take it. As someone who’d always had problems with organized religion, he was repelled. But as a songwriter, he was stunned by the profound and fearless honesty with which Jeff was expressing his faith. Jeff didn’t seem to give a damn what anyone thought of him, or if he seemed uncool. And it’s this naked honesty, Martyn thinks, that has brought so many people to the record—even folks who aren’t themselves religious aretouched by Jeff’s faith and his guts.
Some songs were recorded live as a band, with overdubs layered over the basic tracks. Surprisingly, “Oh Comely,” at 8:18 the longest song on the album, was recorded in a single take by Jeff by himself. The other musicians clustered around Robert in the control booth and in the tiny adjacent room for what they thought was just a test take as Jeff tried out the mic placement. Robert remembers feeling claustrophobic, with maybe twenty people standing around him. The rooms were laid out so Robert could hear Jeff’s playing through the speakers, but also ambiently through the air. Although he was only supposed to play a verse or two, Jeff powered through the song, stunning his friends with a beautiful, passionate performance no less amazing for the uncontrolled moments when he veers out of tune. At the finish, everyone burst into spontaneous cheers and applause—you can hear someone, possibly Scott Spillane, yell “Holy shit!” at the end of the track if you listen closely. The final version is almost exactly what Jeff played that day, with the addition of horn overdubs and a couple of places where Robert went in and
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