325. Sudden Oak Death

John Darnielle references a particularly grim disease found in trees to tell us how miserable the narrator is in “Sudden Oak Death.”

Track: “Sudden Oak Death”
Album: Moon Colony Bloodbath (2009)

John Darnielle sings “Sudden Oak Death,” and calls it “emo” when talking about it. Given the style of song John Darnielle usually writes, it’s telling when he’s even willing to call one of his compositions “emo.” It does fit here in this song about a man unravelling completely and likening the experience to a disease that kills oak trees.

John Darnielle also says it doesn’t fit on the album, which makes a certain sense but also isn’t a big problem. Most of Moon Colony Bloodbath is about someone losing touch with humanity and deciding if that’s something they care about fixing or not. At this point they still do, but they’re coming to terms with their trajectory. John Darnielle’s characters sometimes deal with this on the way down, but with rare exceptions we don’t usually find out if they hit the bottom or not. Most of them feel like they might, but the camera pans away.

Moon Colony Bloodbath is different. This is one cohesive story with one person descending into monstrosity. They don’t even fear what might happen at this point, they just want to explain the impact it has on them. “Lose a little feeling in my fingers // gain an edge of panic in my face,” they tell us, but they really drill it home with several more descriptors. Darnielle wants us to understand how distant this person feels from their fellow man because that sets us up for what they’ll do when they feel all the way gone.

324. Scorpio Rising

With a reference to the Manson Family, John Vanderslice makes it clear where the character in “Scorpio Rising” is mentally.

Track: “Scorpio Rising”
Album: Moon Colony Bloodbath (2009)

Like “Lucifer Rising,” the song “Scorpio Rising” takes a title directly from a Kenneth Anger short film. This one is much more direct and follows a character looking for the footprints and buried footage of Bobby Beausoleil, famous murderer and Manson Family member, who supposedly stole some of Anger’s film. The references may be direct, but they don’t relate to the core story of Moon Colony Bloodbath. “Scorpio Rising” seems to be about the mental state of our main character as they wander around trying to hide something no one should find.

We know from the rest of the album that there are many things people shouldn’t know happening. The character has been on a lunar base and seen unspeakable things and they haven’t resettled well back on Earth. These references are all “out there” in a similar way, especially Bobby Beausoleil. The way I take it, our narrator is trying to relate their own experience to the similarly unrelatable Manson story. When you read about Manson and his crew, it seems unimaginable that someone could fall into that company or that anyone could go down that path. You feel that way because you haven’t had this person’s experience and because you aren’t a murderous cannibal. Well, I hope you aren’t, at least.

John Vanderslice, even more than John Darnielle, writes about outsiders and characters who don’t relate to the world around them. It makes sense that his contributions to Moon Colony Bloodbath explore this space, but these references drive this person all the way away from our understanding. There are few references in modern American crime that call to mind “madness” more directly than Manson, so the shorthand here gets you where Vanderslice wants you to be as quickly as possible.

323. Lucifer Rising

The character in Moon Colony Bloodbath shows us we’re in for a dark journey in “Lucifer Rising.”

Track: “Lucifer Rising”
Album: Moon Colony Bloodbath (2009)

Calling John Vanderslice obtuse is a bit like saying water is wet, but it comes through in his approach to his songs on Moon Colony Bloodbath and is worth mentioning specifically. I love Vanderslice, both on this album and for his solo work, but it can be a struggle to crack through what he’s saying. In many cases I’m of the mind that it doesn’t matter and maybe can’t be solved. Kyle Barbour, my personal favorite Mountain Goats “researcher,” has a record number of annotations for this album that essentially say “this is what this says, but I have no idea why it says this.”

“Lucifer Rising” is Vanderslice’s first song on Moon Colony Bloodbath and it finds our main character wandering around Colorado alone, surrounded by bodies and filled with grim thoughts. They call themselves many dark names, including John the Ripper but inexplicably not Jack the Ripper. Is there significance here? Is this a self-reference from the two Johns that made this? If so, what would that mean? You could reach way out there and assume this is a John, not one of those Johns, and they’re being funny by slightly altering another butcher’s name to foreshadow their own actions, but there’s nothing else to support that theory.

This is the first sign we get that things are going to get really bad. “One day I’ll pay for this, but now, just let me in,” our main character pleads, but we don’t know to who. I don’t know what to make of the title’s reference to Kenneth Anger’s 1972 film, either, but Vanderslice would be pleased at how it all combines to form a story you can almost, but not quite, put your finger on.

322. Collapsing Stars

John Darnielle shows us two young warriors ready for blood but not sure if they’re going to go through with it in “Collapsing Stars.”

Track: “Collapsing Stars”
Album: Come, Come to the Sunset Tree (2005) and Dilaudid EP (2005)

“Collapsing Stars” isn’t on The Sunset Tree. It’s one of the three unique songs to the companion album Come, Come to the Sunset Tree, along with “High Doses #2” and “The Day the Aliens Came (Hawaiian Feeling).” They all share some DNA with the album and they wouldn’t feel weird to be on the main tracklist, but they are left off for a reason. My best guess with “Collapsing Stars” is that it’s a direct revenge fantasy and you already have “Lion’s Teeth,” which fits more thematically with the rest of the record.

All that said, “Collapsing Stars” is fantastic. John Darnielle’s delivery is sharp and crisp as he hits lines like “the grim particulars of poisoning the swimming pool.” These characters, who we know from other adventures on The Sunset Tree, are steeled to go through with a grim act. We have to infer why, but we know enough of this story to have a pretty good picture of it. The most interesting part of the song to me has always been the reveal at the end that they don’t go through with it. So many Mountain Goats songs hold the camera on the boats burning or the screaming argument or the dark revelation at the end, but here our young characters decide the best revenge is living well. That may explain why it doesn’t fit on the album, as that revelation would be doubled up with more space and a different sense of remorse in “Pale Green Things.”

321. Twin Human Highway Flares

An actual love song told with Mountain Goats lyrics is a powerful thing in “Twin Human Highway Flares.”

Track: “Twin Human Highway Flares”
Album: Full Force Galesburg (1997)

It is easy to make a mistake with the Mountain Goats and assume every song is about John Darnielle. Most of it, especially the early stuff, is written in first person. It’s easy to imagine a lot of it coming from the same person. It’s really tidy to say that it’s all one person and that person is John Darnielle and to build a mythos from there. Most of it isn’t, though, and most of it isn’t even gendered. With very rare exceptions, most Mountain Goats songs are deliberate in their ambiguity. Most of them find one person telling one other person something, but you can’t quite tell what.

“Twin Human Highway Flares” is a love song John Darnielle wrote for the woman that would become his wife. It’s extreme in the way that a lot of Mountain Goats songs are, with “I hope my heart explodes” as a finisher and a declaration of love. That violence is what makes it stick in your mind. “I will burn all the calendars that counted the years down to such a worthless day” is pure Darnielle, in a way that you know exactly what I mean if you’ve heard a single other Mountain Goats song. You need the quotes around “love song” for most Mountain Goats “love songs,” but this one is brutal and honest and straightforward. The guitar leads you to expect something sad and distant and the language is destructive, but this is John Darnielle at his clearest and most hopeful. This is a song about telling someone that this moment signifies a future with both of you in it, which very few Mountain Goats narrators would recognize.

320. Baboon

The furious “Baboon” is there for you when you need it, but here’s to hoping you never feel like you need it.

Track: “Baboon”
Album: The Coroner’s Gambit (2000)

On March 1, 1997, John Darnielle played “Baboon” at Replay Lounge in Lawrence, Kansas. That show may have been recorded, but if so, I can’t find it. Later in March he played it at NYU, which you can hear here. The recording is a little muddled and the first verse sounds recorded underwater, but it’s hard to be too mad at a recording of a song three years before release. It’s remarkable that it exists at all. Replay Lounge is still there (as is NYU, if you were wondering) and still open. It’s fun to picture younger John Darnielle belting this song out for a much smaller crowd than he’d play today.

There was a time when a lot of Mountain Goats songs sounded like “Baboon.” These days even the angry songs don’t sound much like this. Maybe it’s because John Darnielle is less interested in writing about angry lovers or maybe it’s because everything is more complex and hidden now, but “Baboon” is unmistakable. This is one person furious at another and they are willing to unload both barrels. You’d never talk to someone you love like this, or you wouldn’t if you still loved them. That’s what “Baboon” is, it’s the moment you don’t love them anymore. “Black Molly” and “Oceanographer’s Choice” feel like cousin songs. These aren’t on the same album, but all three explore the same feeling and the same rage. I think “Baboon” is the best of this group.

John Darnielle put a scan of the original lyrics online here, including the verse he cut with the annotation “no good.” Interestingly, I feel like the lines he cut would feel at home in other songs of the era. “Baboon,” however, just has to show up, explode, and be done.

319. Sign of the Crow 2

John Darnielle tells us as much as he can in “Sign of the Crow 2,” but part of this story is lost to history.

Track: “Sign of the Crow 2”
Album: Unreleased (but released on the forums by John Darnielle in 2015)

I live in Chicago and in recent years, John Darnielle has done multi-night stays here on most tours. Most of the time I try to go to all of them, but in 2018 I missed the third night of the tour where John Darnielle played “Sign of the Crow 2.” You can hear it here, and you should, and hear some charming line-flubbing that is a staple of any performance of these unreleased, weird songs. This one is notably harder than most of them, with lines like “stripped and scorched and skinned” and similar structure to verses that leads to forgetting your place. In the recording you can hear what sounds like “good job babe” from the person next to the recording, as someone helps John Darnielle with the missing lyric. I’m eternally fascinated by this when it happens at shows and I’m a sucker for it.

Even the official version of “Sign of the Crow 2” has one of these towards the end, which John Darnielle commented on when he released the song himself as an apology for some late pre-releases of Heretic Pride. The demo is good, but live performances are great. It really takes off when he amps up the final verse, nearly screaming it and speeding it up. I encourage you to seek some of those out. The story itself is interesting enough and you can likely piece it together from the lyrics alone, but the performance is really what makes it for me. I am fond of the chorus, however, and I love the idea of getting just a part of the story and knowing that the rest is unattainable.

318. Wild Sage

In one of his absolute best songs, John Darnielle tells a story about losing grip with reality in “Wild Sage.”

Track: “Wild Sage”
Album: Get Lonely (2006)

I’m sure I’ve contradicted this statement elsewhere, but I think “Wild Sage” is the best Mountain Goats song. You could say that about “This Year” or “No Children” or a dozen other ones and be right, but I really think it’s “Wild Sage.” It’s not my personal favorite or the one I listen to most often, but I think if I had to defend one as perfect, it would be this one. It so perfectly captures what it wants to convey and it so effectively delivers the mood it wants you to feel. It’s about mental illness and how you fall into a world that is strange to you when you stop being able to connect with people. It’s about other things, too, but it’s really about that lonely feeling.

“Some days I think I’d feel better if I tried harder // most days I know it’s not true,” is the kind of statement that a lesser songwriter would ruin. If you see the Mountain Goats live in a setting with a piano and with a crowd that can handle it, you will be crushed under the weight of “Wild Sage.” It’s one of the most common live songs from Get Lonely and John Darnielle has frequently said it’s one of his favorites. I saw it once in Chicago where the room was actually totally silent other than his performance. No “woo” yelling or singing, just a group of people picturing their own moments of quiet fear and what this song means to them. There are certainly more fun Mountain Goats songs, but that’s why I don’t think there are any “better” ones.

317. Sept. 15 1983

The Mountain Goats hold the camera on the final moments of a musician’s death in “Sept. 15 1983.”

Track: “Sept. 15 1983”
Album: Heretic Pride (2008)

“Sept. 15 1983” isn’t the only Mountain Goats song with a date for a title. It isn’t the only song that is about a murder. It isn’t the only song about someone’s last day they lived. It’s just the only one that’s all three of those. It details the murder of Prince Far I, born Michael James Williams, and his death in Jamaica. The accompanying press kit for Heretic Pride describes John Darnielle’s fascination with the nickname “King Cry Cry,” from the musician’s emotional style and how deeply he got into his music.

I’m no expert on the genre, but “Sept. 15 1983” is clearly done in the style it is to pay homage. It’s unique in that way, for a Mountain Goats song, and it grabs your attention on Heretic Pride. The album starts with a few explosions, but other than a break for “In the Craters on the Moon” and “Lovecraft in Brooklyn,” it’s mostly a slower affair. Even among songs in a similar vibe, you’ll notice this one. It was a live staple for a bit, surprisingly, and always a welcome song to hear at a show.

What I take away the most is that I didn’t know the story before I heard it, but it still conveys enough. The title suggests strongly this is a true story, and as much as we can know it is one. It’s quite the image and descriptive and specific. No matter how often you hear it, it won’t feel like a murder unless you really focus. It’s more a tribute, even with the great level of detail on a moment no one would want to focus on.

316. International Small Arms Traffic Blues

Love is likened to many things, but nothing quite so specific as in “International Small Arms Traffic Blues.”

Track: “International Small Arms Traffic Blues”
Album: Tallahassee (2002)

The first Mountain Goats album I ever heard was Tallahassee. The highs on that album are high, with “No Children” as the obvious standout and a staple of almost every Mountain Goats show for the last two decades. I once saw him start a show with it as he bellowed it from a balcony and then joined the stage. It’s a crazy song on a crazy album designed to show us the depths of the Alpha Couple.

These are the two characters who wander the United States and fall in and out of love through casinos and diners before they settle down and fester in Tallahassee. There are dozens and dozens of songs about them and their love, but we don’t spend much time on the side of the duo that “International Small Arms Traffic Blues” shows us.

“No Children” only hurts if there were good times. The story of the Alpha Couple only feels punishing if you get to see what daylight looks like. This isn’t a positive song by any stretch, but it does show us a lighter moment or two. We see a similar moment in “Game Shows Touch Our Lives” earlier on Tallahassee, but here it feels less like an attempt to save the good times and more like a eulogy. It’s all different degrees of hopeless or angry after this one, so here’s your last chance to say something nice and maybe, just maybe, to mean it.