He speaks to the audience like he’s catching up with a friend rather than addressing a crowd of over 2,000 fans. Keyboardist Matt Douglas played a jazzy saxophone solo to close out the song and bring us into the next one.ĭarnielle paused for another water break and a quick chat. “Younger” also plays on the mythic and warlike themes of “Aulon Raid” but in a more disillusioned tone.ĭarnielle compares his youthful expectations of the faces, voices and shadows he sees to the reality he sees, and seems disappointed in the results of the passage of time. They felt like the pitter-patter of rain pounding on the window during a thunderstorm there’s an unbridled force of nature outside, but you are safe inside. The drums kicked in with a quick and steady beat. People cheered like he had just made a witty remark or done a cool guitar trick, and he smiled like he was in on the joke. The Mountain Goats’ lyrics and the stories that intertwine through their whole catalog is what drives them artistically, not vocal talent.Īfter a couple songs, Darnielle stopped to drink some water. He sounds like Kermit the Frog in the midst of both a nasty cold and midlife crisis. We were all united by and with John Darnielle, this goat-bearded guy.įrankly, I can’t get over Darnielle’s nasally voice. Blue lights illuminated the subtle mountain backdrop as Darnielle whined the chorus, “me and my crew, we will deal with you.” The audience sang along to just that lyric, establishing a feeling that we were the crew he was referring to. The band looked like a set of four high school teachers who rehearse in the band room after school, then perform at the annual variety show.įrontman and founder John Darnielle kicked off the show with war-inspired “Aulon Raid” off of “Songs for Pierre Chuvin,” an album released in 2020. When The Mountain Goats entered the stage in ill-fitting suits, the crowd hooted and applauded. His masterful use of the English language is what accomplished that. Sheff has the kind of voice that would turn heads at an open mic night but not necessarily capture a crowd of 2,000. Belted notes had a loud raspy quality that further evoked a desperate, confessional style. It has a simple, open tone that makes every line sound like an emotionally-charged message directed at you and you alone. The lyrics take center stage due to their quality and the character of Sheff’s voice. He feels the solace Ray Davies found in the Waterloo sunset. He feels Mary Wells’ desperation when insurance wouldn’t cover her laryngeal cancer treatment. He feels his parents’ terror at seeing their only kid get his throat cut open. Sheff talked about his own childhood tracheotomy that inspired the song with a nonchalant buoyancy before launching into vivid vignettes of a traumatic medical procedure. His fourth song in the set was called “Famous Tracheotomies” and was written for a friend’s musical compilation about body parts. It gets more uncanny when you focus on his poetic lyrics, usually centered on intimate accounts of love and introspection. With his long brown hair and round glasses, he bears a striking resemblance to John Lennon. He gave a stripped down-performance but held command of the stage and audience with his acoustic guitar.
They were also incredibly receptive to opener Will Sheff of Okkervil River. The fans in my immediate vicinity were careful with their drinks and maintained a polite degree of personal space, a rarity at most concerts.
People chatted amongst each other and made fast friends. She and her friends were excited to talk to me and quiz me about what songs I knew and how I came to listen to the band. “You collect them like Pokémon cards,” added Haley Prochilo.īrennan was correct about the kindness of the crowd. “The thing about Mountain Goats fans… We are really nice but people like to talk about the songs they’ve seen,” explained concertgoer Shannon Brennan. Williams was lucky enough to hear “Green Olives,” an elusive unreleased song. The Mountain Goats have been making music since 1994, amassing 20 albums and over 600 songs, according to Indyweek. Unless your favorite song is a heavy-hitter like “No Children,” a divorce anthem that blew up on TikTok in 2021, you never really know when or if you’ll hear it live. This kind of odyssey is a common practice among devotees.
He caught shows in Chicago and Minneapolis on the way. Brett Williams, a fan at the Sylvee, is so committed to the folk-rock band that he drove about 1,027 miles from Fort Worth, Texas to the final show on May 21.