229. Move (Chicago 196X)

You could get lost in trying to figure out the meaning of “Move (Chicago 196X),” but that won’t do you any good.

Track: “Move (Chicago 196X)”
Album: Taboo VI: The Homecoming (1992)

When John Darnielle played the entirety of his first album at a live show in 2014, he joked about “Move (Chicago 196X).” He said it was one of two songs that he knew had never been played live. He called the instrumental middle a “dream pop interlude” and explained that you can hear his mother talk to him and squeeze a toy pig into the microphone while he was playing piano.

It is difficult to imagine needing more information than that about a song that is, in total, a person saying “if you leave you’re gonna get athlete’s foot” in various formations for a few minutes. John Darnielle said at that same show “if my dream of ever turning us into a jam band is ever realized, you will hear this song again.” It’s all a joke, because it has to be.

I don’t know what the title refers to and I don’t know if there’s a deeper meaning to this one. I suspect the answer to both is “it doesn’t matter.” Thirty years ago, John Darnielle was not imagining people trying to figure “Move (Chicago 196X)” out. It probably would have delighted him. If there’s anything to draw out here, it’s the mindset of John Darnielle in the early nineties, not planting mysteries but taking what might be an odd phrase he imagined and exploring the space it creates.

228. Ice Cream, Cobra Man

The first album is a strange journey, but “Ice Cream, Cobra Man” displays some of the intensity that comes after it.

Track: “Ice Cream, Cobra Man”
Album: Taboo VI: The Homecoming (1992)

I do not own a copy of the first Mountain Goats album, Taboo VI: The Homecoming. John Darnielle is consistent in his description that it isn’t really something you should track down. As far as I can tell, it will cost you a few hundred bucks if you want your own.

It is interesting primarily as a historical document. John Darnielle was very young and wanted to put his poems to music, and thus this collection of covers and original songs was born. There are some real choices here, with one song in Spanish translation tracked almost directly on top of the English, dialogue from television shows, and sound effects from John Darnielle’s mother playing with a toy pig into the microphone. It’s not quite outsider art, but it has a similar effect.

“Ice Cream, Cobra Man,” on the original tape, opens and closes with explicit, first person, discussion of a sex act. The versions online cut most of it out, which is a source of some controversy. John Darnielle played the entire tape live in 2014, but he also played this one song in Urbana, Illinois in April of 2009. At that show, he made no comment about what may be the only other extant performance of a seventeen-year-old song but did say later that he was talking less because his throat hurt.

It is very difficult to talk about the first album. John Darnielle hasn’t fully disowned it, but he does say it isn’t like what comes after it. “Ice Cream, Cobra Man” is an exception, and “I feel no pain as I float across your ceiling // I feel no shame // I am in a thousand rooms all at the same time” is, if nothing else, something another Darnielle narrator would like to shout at someone.

 

227. Butter Teeth

“Butter Teeth” spends some time with the folks in Portland as they steal things they don’t need.

Track: “Butter Teeth”
Album: Palmcorder Yajna (2003)

“Butter Teeth” is part of the larger universe of We Shall All Be Healed. It’s straightforward in subject matter, as John Darnielle’s narrator tells us they and their compatriots are going to steal random items and look for next steps in a world without next steps. The characters on the album and the two singles that accompany it, Palmcorder Yajna and Letter from Belgium, are not going to make it out of this okay. We might check in on this bunch during a momentary high or during times long after those highs, but we always know the trajectory they’re on no matter what point in the timeline that song happens.

“Butter Teeth” finds the group wandering around and stealing things. “Artlessly shoplifting random things” is a fun turn of phrase, and John Darnielle sells it with a beat before “random” that makes the line almost seem fun. It’s possible in these moments to forget the grander arc of these people’s experience. Much like “Counterfeit Florida Plates,” the mundane elements of someone’s experience can be viewed outside the whole and seem not so bad for a moment, until we’re forced to consider what counting cars or stealing cough syrup actually means for that person’s life.

John Darnielle’s comments about “Butter Teeth” focus on that stealing and on how people outside that group view it. When you see someone in a CVS put some sunscreen in their jacket or someone taking shower curtain rings, what goes through your head? You can try to fill in the details, but John Darnielle wants us to really wonder for more than that brief moment.

226. Yoga

Two characters debate next steps and outcomes while changing their passports in “Yoga.”

Track: “Yoga”
Album: Devil in the Shortwave (2002)

There are two things to take note of in “Yoga.” The first is obvious from the first line, when we learn that these two are doctoring passports in an attempt to escape Bombay. We know we’re in a time before 1995, likely, as Bombay became Mumbai then. We know we’re dealing with unscrupulous characters, again likely, because most aboveboard people don’t have kits to adjust passports. The second thing is revealed in the last verse, as one characters tells the other that one of them “will be all alone someday.”

It all depends on what you believe. The narrator calls the other character’s statement that there is nothing in their way a lie and calls the statement about one, but only one, of them making it out the truth. All we know about this person is that they’re adjusting a passport illicitly. Why would we take their statements after that as truth? Even zoomed out from that, why would we assume they know what’s going to happen next?

“Yoga” unfolds the more time you spend with it in that way. The narrator may be lying, the other character may be lying, neither may be lying, and they may both be wrong or right and not know yet. There are many stories like this over the catalog and John Darnielle loves to create narrators that appear to be omniscient but really only know what they believe is true. On the surface, it’s a song about two people doing what is surely just another crime on a longer list. Below that, it’s people who aren’t sure what’s real anymore and probably ran out of good ideas a long time ago.

225. Earth Air Water Trees

A simple moment with sausage and cheese provides a view into two characters in “Earth Air Water Trees.”

Track: “Earth Air Water Trees”
Album: Tropical Depression EP (w/ Furniture Huschle) (1997)

One of the first songs John Darnielle ever wrote was “In the Cane Fields.” The folks who record when songs were played live can confirm it was played a few times in 1992, once in 2009 in Indiana, and once in 2019. At the 2019 show, John Darnielle talked about the origins of that song and his learning to play guitar after late shifts when he was tired.

I say all that as a way of introducing that 2009 show. For a certain type of fan, this show at Earlham College on the eastern border of Indiana is a kind of holy grail. You have the Indiana staple “Cutter,” the aforementioned “In the Cane Fields,” two songs from Moon Colony Bloodbath, and, as far as I can tell, the only confirmed performance of “Earth Air Water Trees.”

It’s a pretty song, which feels like an odd way to describe any Mountain Goats song. “I love you // I love you because // you gave me sausage and cheese // when I was hungry” is a simple comment, something an animal or a person could feel towards an animal or a person. The first verse tells us that this relationship isn’t perfect, as one character holds their love “like a bone on a string,” but our narrator feels a primal love and expresses it through this simple chorus.

I’m especially drawn to the phrasing of “I had a thousand guesses and some of them were good” in response to being asked to guess what’s in someone’s hands. This character really is invested in this small gesture and blows it into a larger love, though they know that it’s tenuous. We can only hope that it ends better than other songs suggest that it might.

224. Going to Hungary

We are left to wonder what these characters have done and might do next in “Going to Hungary.”

Track: “Going to Hungary”
Album: Tropical Depression EP (w/ Furniture Huschle) (1997)

At the time of this writing, the Wikipedia page for “Lincoln Continental” is nearly 15,000 words long. It’s longer than the page about Jupiter. A tremendous amount of effort went into writing details about all 10 generations of the car and all of the specific details about how the body and chassis have changed over the years. Even with all of this information, I cannot unlock what John Darnielle wants the audience to know as he ends “Going to Hungary” with “we were heading straight to hell // in a Lincoln Continental.”

By my estimation, the purpose of this degree of specificity is the same as it is elsewhere in Mountain Goats songs. Very specific locations and details help a song feel real. These are two actual people and they actually are doing something, John Darnielle wants us to know. They sleep in a hotel room after not sleeping for several days. They put on extremely specific clothing. They leave. This could just be a snapshot of two lives that we see, and it definitely is that, but it’s so specific.

There are fewer than 100 words in “Going to Hungary.” It will likely take you a few listens to lock into, but once you do, there are a lot of questions to answer. What are these folks doing staying up for so long? We can find that answer in the type of people John Darnielle likes to talk about, but let’s not speculate. There’s never been anything said about this song and it’s never been played again, as far as I can tell, but even if there might be more to know, I think the joy is in the mystery for this one.

223. Anti-Music Song

“Anti-Music Song” may not represent John Darnielle’s current musical views, but it’s still a fun curiosity.

Track: “Anti-Music Song”
Album: Tropical Depression EP (w/ Furniture Huschle) (1997)

“Anti-Music Song” is about a minute and a half long. It’s a “joke” song from the era where there were “joke” songs. You could call modern Mountain Goats songs like “Foreign Object” jokes, but the older albums and EPs have songs that are shorter and typically solely about the central joke of the thing.

It is hard to approach a song like this because there isn’t that much below the surface. John Darnielle won’t play “Anti-Music Song” live now and says he doesn’t agree with most of the goofs. You can do some digging and find commentary about who the “bad imitation” of Morrissey is or who the “imitation of an imitation of Jimi Hendrix” is, but what does it matter? John Darnielle has said most of these aren’t even his opinions anymore, thus the song is dead, thus it doesn’t matter beyond a footnote for what it meant at the time.

The most enduring element of “Anti-Music Song” is the final line. After slamming a half dozen people, directly or indirectly, the character says “and I don’t like you // I don’t like you.” It’s straightforward to the point of being notable. So many songs in the early days are about the world ending to signify how two people feel about each other or cooking as a representation for the final day of one’s life or a million other things that you really notice when someone just yells at another person. John Darnielle built on this all the way to the apotheosis of the idea on Tallahassee, and it’s fun to see the early, furious efforts in songs like this and “Cubs in Five.”

222. Nine Black Poppies

“Nine Black Poppies” is the moment between the good times that are over and the explosion still to come.

Track: “Nine Black Poppies”
Album: Nine Black Poppies (1995)

It is easy to make broad statements about the Mountain Goats. This is a band that put out a shirt that just said “I Only Listen to the Mountain Goats” on it because they knew the way their audience processes their work. No one “likes” the Mountain Goats, they feel something more than that.

That said, I will lean into that impulse and say I don’t think there is a better thesis statement for the “early’ period than these two lines from “Nine Black Poppies:”

And I tried to remember how nice it had been a long, long time ago
But I couldn’t remember, I honestly could not remember

The song opens with one character saying they intended a nice gesture but then was overcome by this emotion. They grow increasingly uncomfortable and get closer and closer to the moment of confrontation. John Darnielle has said that it’s about characters that don’t trust each other, which is really clear as the situation escalates. In typical fashion, we don’t get enough specifics to fill in the gaps. The characters reference “a half-remembered conversation” and “the traces of an old song,” and we’re left to wonder what really happened here.

It doesn’t matter. The power of “Nine Black Poppies” is in the way John Darnielle’s voice cracks over “someone was changing // someone was changing from the inside out” and the panic that we feel as we consider our own version of this situation. A package from a specific part of China is all we get as a clue, but we don’t need to know. We’ve been there before and we’re back there again as this character turns around, somewhere after this song ends.

221. Chanson du Bon Chose

In an early morning fit of activity and stress, two characters cling to each other in “Chanson du Bon Chose.”

Track: “Chanson du Bon Chose”
Album: Nine Black Poppies (1995)

I don’t have exact figures on this, but hundreds of Mountain Goats songs are in first person even though they aren’t about John Darnielle. This seems to be a difficult point to grasp, and it is easy to assume that the “I” in a song is the person singing. The narrator in “Chanson du Bon Chose,” translated (confusingly, though we lack the space to get into it) as “Song of the Good Thing,” is not John Darnielle. At a show in 2014 in Arizona, John Darnielle mused about the person he was when he wrote this song and what darkness was within that songwriter. You could ask that about so many of the early songs, but it’s especially appropriate in this case.

The characters in “Chanson du Bon Chose” are in a complex situation. The narrator says they are “waiting for something” and identifies their lover as sleeping in the living room. It’s 5:16 a.m., though we don’t know if that means today is starting early or continuing late for this character, and they ominously say “something was changing // there was something here entirely new.” The lyrics contain quotidian details, with water boiling on a stove as a classic representation of forward momentum. There’s an anxiety behind all of this. It’s a weird time to be awake, there are normal things happening but all at once, and these people are both troubled and hanging on to something.

There are so many songs frozen in this moment between two people, but what makes this one special is the performance. John Darnielle is not this character, but he sells them as someone fully realized in just a few minutes. “I am digging graves,” they nearly scream, and we feel the hairs on our arms prick up.

220. Cheshire County

Even though we know exactly where “Cheshire County” takes place, mystery abounds.

Track: “Cheshire County”
Album: Nine Black Poppies (1995)

“I feel like people would like this… if only anyone could see it.” – Peter Hughes, on the final moments of “Cheshire County”

Cheshire is a county in England. Daniel Craig and Tim Curry are from there. Lewis Carroll named the Cheshire Cat after it. It’s also the namesake for a cheese that John Darnielle bought in California that caused him to consider what kind of cows made this cheese he liked so much.

For the Mountain Goats, that’s a lot of backstory to have for a song. That’s an explanation for why there’s a brief song about a cow on the album that has the angry “Cubs in Five” and the even angrier “Nine Black Poppies.” Peter Hughes gave the above quote in reference to nearly empty shows on a tour where he played the ending notes and felt fond of how the song turned out, even if no one was there to appreciate it.

Plenty of people appreciate it now. “Cheshire County” has been consistently played at live shows for decades now, but my favorite rendition comes after a furious version of “Family Happiness” where an audience member asks for “Going to Alabama.” John Darnielle confirms this song does not exist and then seems to get in a brief disagreement with the person about this solid fact. They go back and forth about other songs that may or may not exist and John Darnielle says “well, here” and then plays “Cheshire County.”

It’s just a brief song about a cow and about two people who see it. It doesn’t need to be more than that, but it does end with a repetition of “disappear” that feels ominous. The narrator says it’s “the remnants of last night” that disappear, but we’re left to wonder what that means to them.