Back of the Rack: Mountain Goats
By Kristian Radke Back of the Rack is a regular feature in which Indie writers consider albums that aren't particularly new, but we think deserve revisiting. The noble duck billed platypus, for which I profess an unending fascination, bemusement and love of, is something most people have little more than, at most, a passing interest about. Sure, they’ve heard of the odd little creature, but have they bothered to learn that platypuses often find their prey in part by detecting electric fields generated by muscular contractions? Do they scour the internet for pictures and videos of this adorable little creature? Do they have lucid daydreams which often interfere with their studies about having an unusually gregarious platypus named Tully Rivers as a pet? So too my love of the Mountain Goats. I love the artist more than anyone I know -- and that isn’t me boasting about being a "true fan." The only reason I can confidently say that is because I am the only person I know who actually loves the Mountain Goats. But it’s rumored there are more of my brethren scouring the web to find a torrent for his unreleased recording, "Hail and Farewell, Gothenburg." I find this very strange -- partly because my fandom has superseded all boundaries of reason and logic, but more importantly because he has a general sound which seems to have a pretty solid fan base nowadays (which could be defined by the vague term, "indie folk"). If you like Bright Eyes, Neutral Milk Hotel, Elliot Smith, Tom Waits, or Bob Dylan, then the Mountain Goats is probably something you’ll want to check out. Yet no one I meet or talk to can drum up the enthusiasm to sit down and listen to a few of his tracks. Even the person who first mentioned the artist to me is reasonably indifferent about him. But oh, young one, if you do so decide to give them a spin on your gramophone, then I would recommend beginning with "The Sunset Tree." An autobiographical record tackling the subject of his abusive childhood and turbulent formative years, "The Sunset Tree" is an emotionally compelling testament formed from surprisingly catchy pop songs which make for an amazingly solid and substantial LP. If you were here right now I’d probably sit you down and force you to listen to the song "This Year." But since you are not, suffice it to say it’s a song that encapsulates the experience of being an angry young man. In a cavalcade of anger and fear, it includes discussions of committing grand theft auto, causing physical harm to arcade machines, the difficulty of manual shifting, and the excitement of breaking free with reckless abandonment for which you will only have to pay hell for later. It’s a song that ignites a furious feeling of hope underlying an overall sense of desperation: the kind of song Bruce Springsteen has always tried to write. Although the music of the Mountain Goats is certainly delightful, more often than not it acts as a vehicle for the lyrics, which admittedly take some time to really appreciate. The defining moment for me was listening to the song "Woke Up New" off the album "Get Lonely." I heard the line: "The first time I made coffee for just myself / I made too much of it / but I drank it all just cause I knew you hated when I let things go to waste." Initially, the lyrics struck me as a somewhat mundane description of coming to terms with being alone -- until I realized that a stupid thing like making too much coffee is exactly what real people do in a situation like that. Sure it sounds nice to use an elaborate metaphor to describe the chasm exposed in your soul, but the little details are what speak volumes about what is going on. Ironically enough, by making his lyrics highly specific, his songs become far more universally relatable, and a lot more interesting to read into. They are more inclined to kindle your imagination than very general lines that do the work for you. Sadly, I will most likely never own a pet platypus named Tully Rivers; it’s doubtful I will ever even see one, but like some half-remembered childhood memory, the imagined pat-pat-pat sound of Tully waddling in will always delight me. I’m really not sure exactly what makes the platypus so compelling to me, but I think maybe the appeal of the "Sunset Tree" and the Mountain Goats is that it contains a sort of special, simple honesty -- free of pretension and melodrama -- the kind that’s usually kept to a whisper in warm rooms late at night. |
