The Mountain Goats, Bower Birds

Fact: there exist in this world a large number of people who have never before had (or, if you prefer, more cynically, are yet to have) their hearts broken. Try as we might to scorn or even “envy” these people, we instead find ourselves pitying their blind innocence. We wear the battle scars of past relationships outwardly, proudly displaying them, much like a stained, threadbare, and long-disputed Modest Mouse t-shirt, stolen back from the ex-boyfriend who stole it from you in the first place (also, fact). A painful break-up, as Nick Hornby and Stephen Merritt have taught us, is a thing of immeasurable beauty. It is more valuable than love. If you are lucky, you will have at least one.

John Darnielle can, however, enlighten even the most naïve listener to the dark and frustrating vagaries of a romance gone sour, a craft he has mastered for over fifteen years with his band The Mountain Goats. Though he refuses to reveal his age (a self-proclaimed “diva”), a bespectacled Darnielle takes the stage looking a bit like Stephen Colbert in his suit, leaning frantically into the microphone, beads of sweat collecting on his brow, his eyes widened with intensity as he sings each song. He speaks rapidly between songs, extolling the virtues of Ace of Base (the room swelling during a rendition of ‘The Sign’) and cheap Los Angeles motels. Before treating the audience to ‘Grendel’s Mom,’ Darnielle explains how he wrote the song during the last twenty minutes of British Lit, bitterly arranging lyrics while “people ask[ed] questions just to prove they read the assignment.”

And with lyrics like “I hope you blink before I do / And I hope I never get sober,” in his catalog, Darnielle is frequently mistook for a spiteful, lonely curmudgeon. In fact, Darnielle reveals a more optimistic side between songs in his live appearances. While introducing ‘No Children,’ he recognizes an audience member as his first love, a fellow panelist from his middle school poetry contest, and dedicates the song to her “if not in substance, than in spirit.”

The first time I saw the Mountain Goats was in 2006, at the inaugural Pitchfork Music Festival. Darnielle and his longtime companion, bassist Peter Hughes, played one of the best sets of the entire weekend, including in their setlist ‘See America Right’ and ‘No Children.’ Their performance at Greenpoint’s Studio B was no disappointment, as they played more crowd favorites including ‘This Year’ and ‘Old College Try’ in addition to the songs previously mentioned.

The true highlight of the evening, for me, had to have been when Darnielle, on one of his characteristic sprawling rants, began referring to himself in the third person, as “the person who drinks so much they black out” and stubbornly insists that even photographic proof of his or her drunken behavior is doctored. “I think there was a picture of me climbing a fence and the hedge was photoshopped in,” Darnielle surmises. He continues, describing the ideal moment in which the aforementioned person finds his or her soulmate. “I might not remember this tomorrow,” he drawls, “and you might not remember this tomorrow. But. I love you.”

The Bowerbirds, a pleasant nu-folk pop three-piece from Raleigh, NC (more palatable to a disgruntled Mountain Goats fan than, say, Espers or Joanna Newsom), impressed me to the point where I purchased a copy of their LP, ‘Hymns for a Dark Horse,’ though I strongly encourage them to choose another name. Remember Manitoba/Caribou? It’s not too late.

Note: Studio B is a pretty nice venue; it’s dark and comfortable, and there are about ten or so stalls in the ladies’ room. Also, they serve $3 tall cans of Colt 45. Who doesn’t love cheap beer? I stand by my pro-Greenpoint, anti-Williamsburg sentiment.

Links:

The Mountain Goats
Bower Birds

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