And then there's the rage. John Darnielle is by all accounts a very thoughtful, kind and well-adjusted man. That's certainly the way he comes across in interviews, on Twitter and in so, so many gentle, compassionate songs. As I've said, I shook his hand once, and it was large, warm, soft and welcoming; the smile he sent my way was there in his eyes not just on his lips. But the song he was singing at the time - the song indeed we were all hollering at the top of our voices - is one of the most vicious accounts of marital break-up ever committed to music. You know the one I mean. There's an essential humour to the way he does it, a purgative quality which approaches celebration when he plays such songs live, but there's no getting away from the sheer anger at the heart of much of JD's work. Indeed, getting away from (or over) anger is something JD shows limited interest in doing. There's little suppression, sublimation or simple avoidance at work here; few ea
Let's start with an exemplary case - and one of my persistent favourites. 'Absolute Lithops Effect' is a modest and unassuming little song that pops up as the last track of an album rich in highlights. It has a simple core idea which is broached and developed in the most straightforward ways over just a couple of minutes and - like almost all the early Mountain Goats' recordings - could barely have been more crudely laid down for posterity: simple guitar and voice committed to tape on a boombox whose ailing machinery can clearly be heard throughout. Things have got much more sophisticated and ambitious of late, but for many this is still the band's true sound. That is, the sound of no band at all. The song's structure is also characteristically plain. These days, JD is capable of a masterful middle eight, but he doesn't want shade or variety here. A shift of tone or perspective would detract from the tightly focused mood he is after, so we simply get verse/