Mount Eerie's music has always reflected Phil Elverum's keen awareness of life's cycles -- how situations change constantly, and how people change each other. The albums he made following the death of his wife Geneviève Castrée were particularly eloquent expressions of how grief and growth don't occur in straight lines, and Lost Wisdom pt. 2 is no exception. Recorded after Elverum's separation from actor Michelle Williams, the sequel to 2008's Lost Wisdom is both a step forward and a return. Working once again with old friend and kindred spirit Julie Doiron, he upholds the tradition of balancing Mount Eerie's ambitious statements with more intimate ones. The original Lost Wisdom was just such an album, filled with tiny glimpses of love, sadness, and wonder; though its sequel shares its hushed, intent atmosphere, its songs have stretched out a bit to encompass more grief and more hope. As Elverum bridges the gap between the in-the-moment confessions of A Crow Looked at Me and Now Only and the more crafted songs of his earlier work, Doiron helps him convey how layered his loss is. On "Seaweed," which honors Elverum's brief but meaningful time with Williams, their voices entwine and branch off from each other, only joining to share their separation: "We could have bridged the gap/But it yawned and swallowed this world of ours." More often, Lost Wisdom pt. 2 superimposes how much he misses both Castrée and Williams. On the stunning "Widows," Elverum muses on his time in "the rich part of the city" with Williams and an afternoon with his daughter among the crows and ravens in a garbage dump while Doiron sings about eternal truths over raging guitars and drums. Since Castrée's passing, Elverum's songwriting has become more revealing and detailed, and he connects Lost Wisdom pt. 2's roots with the more overtly autobiographical style of his two previous albums on the opening track, "Belief," a free-flowing narrative of heartache that sets the tone for the album with imagery of destruction and renewal -- oceans, fires, a house without a door -- that's vividly specific yet universal. Elverum is clear-eyed yet tender about the end of things on "Love Without Possession;" when he sings "I'll know that when we collided/We both broke each other open," he lays the groundwork for "Belief pt. 2," where he vows "I'm not going to seal up my heart." Though it's a smaller-scale work than either A Crow Looked at Me or Now Only, Lost Wisdom pt. 2 is filled with just as much insight and compassion.
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