The Mountain Goats
by Grant Moser
April 2008
John Darnielle has been recording as the Mountain Goats since 1991. I can’t believe I haven’t heard of him before, because he’s very, very good. He’s known for his “literary” lyrics, which is industry shorthand for “really good” lyrics. There isn’t any bubblegum pop with awful rhyming. This is smart songwriting (lyrically and musically) that feels like a rush of clean air in today’s cluttered music world—think the Decemberists, Colin Meloy, and Bishop Allen as reference points. Darnielle doesn’t shy away from letting his imagination explode everywhere on this album: “San Bernadino” is a surprisingly sweet tune about a couple who checks into a roadside motel to give birth in the tub. “Heretic Pride” might be the point of view of the avenging angel at the end of the world who is relieved that it’s finally all over: He “can taste jasmine” again (even though the townspeople “dragged [his] body through the streets”), and he’ll “feel so proud when the reckoning arrives.” Then there’s “Autoclave,” a love (?) song where Darnielle compares himself to a “great, unstable mass of blood and foam, and no one in her right mind would make her home my home.” The genius of Darnielle is that if you aren’t listening carefully, the sweet songs sweep you away. And if you are listening, they sweep you away even further.