043. Pure Intentions

“Pure Intentions” may sound a little dated, but it offers two fascinating minutes of the early Mountain Goats style. 

Track: “Pure Intentions”
Album: Songs for Petronius (1992) and Bitter Melon Farm (1999)

“The sound of the singing on it makes me cringe, but I am aware of a few people who think this is as close to perfection as I’ve come.” – John Darnielle, talking about Songs for Petronius on the liner notes of the compilation Bitter Melon Farm.

Peter Hughes, the bassist for the Mountain Goats, was recently asked in an interview about fans who prefer the early boombox stuff to the modern version of the band. He spoke of those fans the same way John Darnielle usually does. They both essentially said that they understand why people love the torn-down, robotic weirdness of the early singles and cassettes. The band has been around since 1991, and it’s certainly true that there’s been an “evolution” from the early tracks to what the band is now. Whether you think the recent albums are better or worse is a matter of debate, but I tend to agree with Peter Hughes when he says “If John had continued to make a boombox-recorded version of each record alongside the full studio album, which one would you spend more time with? For me, I wouldn’t listen to the boombox one.”

“Pure Intentions” is pure early Goats. It’s a little hard to listen to from a sound quality perspective, but it wasn’t really intended to be judged against Tallahassee. For the most part, all five songs on Songs for Petronius work more as history lessons than they do as things to sit down and listen to in 2015. It’s interesting to hear Darnielle’s early songwriting. “You’re so pretty // I could burst // and I wonder // who’s gonna talk first” wouldn’t be totally out of place on a later album, and it certainly does plant that seed of “what are these two people up to?”

030. Snow Song

In “Snow Song” two people look out at the cold world of Portland’s winter and feel as cold inside their lonely apartment.

Track: “Snow Song”
Album: Bitter Melon Farm (1999)

In the liner notes of Bitter Melon Farm, John Darnielle says that snow reminds him of Portland, Oregon and his time there where he did drugs and “almost died at least twice.” Snow is a common symbol in general, but in a Mountain Goats song it is meant to remind the listener of a distant sadness and the place where that sadness lives in both your mind and your past. We don’t like snow — or those places — but the purpose and the power cannot be denied.

“Snow Song” is one of many Goats songs that deal with winter, and it’s much less discussed than “Snow Crush Killing Song” or even “Third Snow Song.” It’s just a slow, sad tale of two people sitting in a cold apartment in a cold world. The couple is isolated in their apartment by the uncaring, unrelenting snow outside, but their feelings for each other mean they’re as alone together as they would be without the other person.

It’s a familiar feeling. Everyone has experienced the line “I’d just as soon make you disappear as look at you,” but it’s the fact that the narrator chooses to express love and kindness despite not really feeling the emotions tied to the gestures that makes the song so specific. Falling out of love is one thing, but fighting the process is something else entirely. The closing “how do you feel about that?” repetition is either spoken from one lover to another or it’s internal, but either way it’s a summation of where these two are headed.

018. Going to Monaco

 

In “Going to Monaco,” one lover strikes a final blow against another after a perceived wrong we aren’t permitted to see.

Track: “Going to Monaco”
Album: Transmissions to Horace (1993) and Bitter Melon Farm (1999)

The end of a relationship between two people who both want their relationship to end is fine. There are still emotions wrapped up in that kind of an ending, but it’s an easier break when both people want to leave. It’s far harder, obviously, when there’s a difference of opinion. When one person is in love and another is not, that’s where you have “Going to Monaco.”

The chorus of “and you ask me to hold you // that’s the devil’s work” is, for lack of a better word, mean. There’s spite in this character and it comes through in the snarl when John Darnielle sings the song. The guitar is slow and plodding and the whole thing feels defiant. They’re mad at this person standing on the beach with them, but in “neither of us runs for cover” we learn that they are both going to see this through to the end.

“Going to Monaco” ends without a resolution, but it’s easy to fill in their future. One fights anger and defiance by demanding one last emotional gesture, the kind of thing we often do when we’re backed into a corner. It is the cigarette before the firing squad, and since the other feels wronged, their only remaining move is to deny the smoke. The world is aflame around them and we’re not here long enough to figure out who really made the mistake here — did something happen or are they just like this — but we recognize our own defiance in how they deal with their conflict. The world will continue to burn and one of them will get their way, but not both.

014. Historiography

 

The narrator of “Historiography” only remembers one (or ten) things about love and wants to tell you about that one (or ten).

Track: “Historiography”
Album: Transmissions to Horace (1993) and Bitter Melon Farm (1999)

Historiography is the study of how history is written and kept, and that is a concept central to the Mountain Goats. Unreliable narrators, loners, people lost to society, and other misfits are sprinkled through the catalog, and it’s important to always consider the source when reading history, be it of great nations or of a relationship.

“Historiography” is originally from Transmissions to Horace, which may be considered the third official Goats release. It’s tough to number them — especially because Transmissions to Horace was released in its entirety, with other albums, on Bitter Melon Farm six years later — but it’s enough to say that this is one of the earliest existing songs. The title of the album suggests that John Darnielle is talking to history itself as it name drops the famous poet from the early days of the Roman Empire. This particular transmission is filled with forlorn strumming and an overall tone that makes you hear rain that isn’t really falling.

Our narrator is in love. It’s the kind of love that strikes you dumb and makes you say passionate, immediate things. They recount their own history of a beautiful moment by repeating “all I remember” about the situation. The early “you were warm // and that’s all I remember” is a sweet sentiment, but by the tenth thing that is “all I remember” it’s clear that our character is too in love to focus on the structure of how they show it. “Historiography” is aptly named, because it doesn’t so much matter what happened as it does how they record it. The narrator cares more about getting everything said than they do about wondering if each thing really is the only thing they remember. Moment to moment history is as important as that of time when you’re this in love.