Spun out of the wobbly orbit that once surrounded
Neutral Milk Hotel, The Music Tapes is a project commanded by Julian Koster and
an array of instruments and contraptions that he's either built, transformed,
or somehow just summoned for a sound devoted to a strange, messy magic. Parts
of Music Tapes For Clouds And Tornadoes were recorded with a "1930s Webster
Chicago wire recorder" and a contemporaneous RCA ribbon microphone, and the
self-made instruments used include the "7 Foot Tall Metronome" and "The
Clapping Hands," both of which look like giant toys from a stately old
children's book. The songs they serve are decidedly childlike and raw: In the
introductory "Saw Ping Pong And Orchestra," Koster howls over warbly strings
that lend unlikely drama to the shout-out-to-clouds line "Nimbus! Stratus!
Cirrus!", while plaintive banjo and old organs wander into luminescent songs
like "Majesty." At the core of them all is Koster's invested, angelic voice and
his singing saw—a piece of old metal he makes whir like something from
space, or just the spectral grooves of a 78.