Neutral Milk Hotel was an American rock band formed by singer, guitarist and songwriter Jeff Mangum in the early 1990s. The band was noted for its experimental sound, obscure lyrics and eclectic instrumentation.
The first release under the Neutral Milk Hotel moniker was the 1994 EP Everything Is, a short collection of tracks featuring Mangum. On the band's full-length debut album On Avery Island, which followed shortly thereafter, Mangum was joined by childhood friend and The Apples in Stereo frontman Robert Schneider, who contributed production and instrumentation. Upon the album's release, the full band was formed and extensive touring began.
Neutral Milk Hotel released In the Aeroplane Over the Sea in 1998, which became their best-known and most critically acclaimed album. Although the album did not meet commercial success at the time of release, it has gone on to sell over 300,000 copies and received critical acclaim from several publications, including Pitchfork Media, Magnet Magazine, Allmusic, and The Pazz & Jop poll. Despite growing popularity, the group disbanded in 1999 after Mangum became disenchanted with touring and the music press, later having a nervous breakdown.
Neutral Milk Hotel is a part of The Elephant 6 Recording Company, based in Athens, Georgia. The band was one of Elephant 6's three first projects, alongside The Apples in Stereo and Olivia Tremor Control.
Read more about Neutral Milk Hotel: Influence, Discography
Famous quotes containing the words neutral, milk and/or hotel:
“The lonely Earth amid the balls
That hurry through the eternal halls,
A makeweight flying to the void,
Supplemental asteroid,
Or compensatory spark,
Shoots across the neutral Dark.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“Of smale houndes hadde she that she fedde
With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed.
But soore wepte she if oon of hem were deed,
Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte—
And al was conscience and tendre herte.”
—Geoffrey Chaucer (1340?–1400)
“A writer is in danger of allowing his talent to dull who lets more than a year go past without finding himself in his rightful place of composition, the small single unluxurious “retreat” of the twentieth century, the hotel bedroom.”
—Cyril Connolly (1903–1974)