208. Infidelity

The first of a two part story about cheating, “Infidelity” focuses on short-term returns.

Track: “Infidelity”
Album: Infidelity (as The Extra Glenns) (1993)

“This is a song about when you’re just on the cusp of doing something terribly wrong… and it’s nice.” – John Darnielle

John Darnielle introduced “Infidelity” with the above quote in 2002 in San Francisco. He wrote a handful of songs that express this idea, but “Infidelity” the song on Infidelity the single is the prototype. The single was released in 1993 by Harriet Records, a now-defunct label that also released some albums for The Magnetic Fields. It’s an Extra Glenns record, but the distinction between the Glenns and the Mountain Goats doesn’t mean much thematically. It’s pure John Darnielle, especially the early years, as characters look out over nature and ponder their place in the world and the consequences of their actions.

“We watched the water // we looked right through it // and I let my hand rest a minute on your stomach // like there was nothing to it” is as physical as it gets in “Infidelity,” but the title of course suggests so much more. Franklin Bruno’s backing vocals add some serious melancholy to the song, which complicates the emotions further. These people are essentially in the same situation as the two in the much-later song “Alibi,” but we’re not supposed to be nearly as happy for these two.

The earliest live record of “Infidelity” I can find is from 1995 at The Empty Bottle in Chicago. John Darnielle says “this is, like, a true story” and follows the performance with “Adultery,” a much angrier song about the same couple. Cheating is wrong, we all agree, but John Darnielle presents a range of emotions without ever showing us the other impacted characters. We’re left to imagine what they know (and don’t know) and how this will resolve.

207. Third Snow Song

A lone character bangs a key against an icy bridge in a statement about what it’s like to live in the cold in “Third Snow Song.”

Track: “Third Snow Song”
Album: Philyra (1994) and Protein Source of the Future…Now! (1999)

At a show in Florida in 1998, John Darnielle played “Third Snow Song” on request. He dedicated it to anyone who has lived “in snow” and told the Tallahassee crowd to thank “whatever forces control your life” that they don’t have to experience multiple feet of snow. What’s more, after he finished the song, he asked the requester if they only asked for it because it’s an obscure song.

At the time, the only way to know “Third Snow Song” would be to have a copy of Philyra. Here in 2019 a copy will cost you about $30 USD, but there’s no telling how hard it would have been in 1998. John Darnielle mentioned that he didn’t even have one. It was re-released on the compilation Protein Source of the Future…Now! the next year and obviously, now, it’s everywhere online, but it makes one wonder what that person wanted from this song in 1998 in Florida.

It’s a short song with some catchy guitar. The into is toe-tapping and John Darnielle’s voice is upbeat. His character walks down Broadway in Portland and scrapes ice off the bridge with an old key. The goal seems to be to read the bridge’s dedication plaque. I’m unable to find what it says, but it doesn’t feel like it’s critical to the song. The character may or may not care, but given what we know about John Darnielle’s time in Portland, it’s more likely that they just needed a goal, however arbitrary.

If you’ve ever lived somewhere with lots of snow, you can sympathize with the feeling of trying to bang snow and ice off of something. You can feel yourself against a huge structure and the larger world as the cold makes you feel like the world itself is out to get you.

200. The Monkey Song

Does a song about a monkey in the basement hold greater meaning or is this really just “The Monkey Song?”

Track: “The Monkey Song”
Album: Philyra (1994) and Protein Source of the Future…Now! (1999)

“The Monkey Song” is not a traditional Mountain Goats song. It’s impossible to sing without a smile, given the absurd chorus about a monkey in the basement. “How did the monkey get there” and “where did the monkey come from” sound like lyrics from a children’s song. When played live, people have a good time and laugh along with John Darnielle. He sometimes even offers a mocking grand statement about the song to drive home the contrast with how silly it is.

There’s nothing wrong with a silly song. You will definitely wonder what this monkey is supposed to represent and why it’s in the basement, but you’ll just as quickly decide that you shouldn’t think so hard about a song called “The Monkey Song.” Given its placement on Philyra with a song about Portuguese water dogs, the urge to dismiss greater meaning is strong. But then, the other two songs on the album are serious, intense meditations on love and struggle. The other releases in 1994 tackle dark topics. What’s it all mean?

I’d like to say that “The Monkey Song” is the key to all of it. I’d like to suggest that it’s one of the songs that seems like it has a deeper meaning to unlock and in doing so, you gain a greater understanding of John Darnielle and yourself. More likely, it’s a silly song with a chorus that crowds can pick up on quickly. John Darnielle once told a story about playing in Europe and hearing a voice in the crowd yell something like “play monkey song!” in heavily accented English and how shocking it was. It’s not that there isn’t anything to understand here, it’s just that it may not always be the most important point.

199. Night of the Mules

Vague religious references and a group of foreboding animals populate “Night of the Mules.”

Track: “Night of the Mules”
Album: Chile de Árbol (1993) and Protein Source of the Future…Now! (1999)

Chile de Árbol is a strange collection. One song is about the end of the world and the Easter Bunny, another is about Billy the Kid, and the other three are challenging to approach even at a basic level. “Night of the Mules” seems to be about generalized menace, with only the title to suggest where the source of said menace lies.

A few years ago John Darnielle opened a concert with “Night of the Mules.” He’s said recently that he likes to open shows with old or rare songs so few people in the crowd will know the first one. It’s a powerful effect, and it usually quiets the crowd as people try to figure out what they’re listening to or if they’ve heard it before. “Night of the Mules” doesn’t need much updating to fit in with a modern Mountain Goats show. It’s all fierce guitar and sneers, so it’s a perfect wake-the-crowd-up jam to hear up top.

The only commentary I can find is one quote where John Darnielle says the song is about an ending that will come for everyone. Kyle Barbour, author of The Annotated Mountain Goats, suggests that it’s a Biblical song because of the presence of kings, holly, and mistletoe, but he also hears “praying” in the second verse where I hear “braying.” That’s as good of an answer as anything I can come up with, but I’m more comfortable calling this a generalized view of an end times. The religious reading is backed up by the opening sample from Genesis about Abraham’s attempt to save the city of Sodom if ten good men exist there, but mules coming to destroy everything seems more like a John Darnielle original idea to me.

198. Seed Song

“Seed Song” pivots in the middle to tell the beginning and end of a story about life.

Track: “Seed Song”
Album: Yam, the King of Crops (1994) and Protein Source of the Future…Now! (1999)

The first two verses of “Seed Song” follow a familiar construction for the Mountain Goats. It starts with a narrator telling us that it has not rained in a year, but someone still wants to sell the character seeds. A different character in the following verse insists that these people buy seeds from a catalog, but it still refuses to rain. “We sent him away,” the narrator repeats four times, to really drive the point home.

John Darnielle loves using repetition and emphasis. In “Seed Song,” these devices work well with the hypnotic tune and create a sense of relentlessness in the listener. The idea is straightforward (it is not raining, no one has use for seeds) but the implication is much bigger than that. We are made to understand that these people are in trouble, immediately, and it is repeated to the point that it is unmissable. “Seed Song” opens Yam, the King of Crops, and the first two verses are a dark way to start an album. In typical Mountain Goats fashion, things must get worse.

The construction of the third verse is similar, but the audience changes. The narrator addresses us directly with “And I know you’re waiting // for the ironic ending.” This plays with expectations, because at this point you must wonder what will happen to these people. The reality is that most stories end this way, as the narrator tells us “I know you’re waiting // for the rain to come by // so am I.” The repetition of “so am I” four times again follows the previous verse’s construction, but without the hope of a happier ending.

197. Going to Jamaica

Communication is key, and the poor substitute of gifts of flowers proves that in “Going to Jamaica.”

Track: “Going to Jamaica”
Album: Taking the Dative (1994), Ghana (1999)

“Going to Jamaica” is the survivor from Taking the Dative. Of the six songs on the album, it’s the one that sounds closest to the band’s later output. As a result, it’s the one you’re most likely to hear during the solo set in the middle of a Mountain Goats concert in this era of the band. Most versions of the song maintain what makes the original work so well, with biting punctuation at the end of each verse and slow, longing guitar.

There is debate about if this song involves the Alpha Couple, but the presence of an Alpha song directly after it on Taking the Dative (“Alpha Gelida”) seems to suggest otherwise. The distinction isn’t all that important, as “Going to Jamaica” hits all of the Alpha themes: desperation, lack of communication, unclear solutions to unclear problems. These two aren’t having the real conversation they need to have and they might still be early enough in that they know that, but it won’t change.

In both verses, the character we don’t hear from asks the narrator when they can leave. The narrator originally says “I’m not at liberty to say,” but changes to “Well, it’s any day now” by the end of the song. Neither of these feel honest, and both are followed by the same next step. As a distraction, the narrator pulls flowers out of the ground or “from the hands of children” for their partner. The same move twice gives the impression that the narrator is winging this and isn’t doing a good job. The camera pans away before the explosion, but we get a good sense of where this story is headed.

196. Wrong!

The curiously vague, sleepy “Wrong!” describes a familiar feeling without spoiling the universality with details.

Track: “Wrong!”
Album: Taking the Dative (1994), Ghana (1999)

There are very few Mountain Goats songs with an exclamation point in the title. Given what John Darnielle can accomplish in a song with a mundane title, “Wrong!” seems ripe for yelling and screaming. The result is surprising, with a lazy beat and the unmistakable sound of the early keyboard songs. This isn’t an angry anthem, it’s a quiet song sung under one’s breath.

John Darnielle says his angriest songs aren’t the screamers, they’re the ones that one character delivers to another in a hushed, furious tone. The classic example is the divorce story “Waving at You,” but “Wrong!” seems like it’s part of that tradition. It’s short enough to quote entirely, but you really just need the first verse: “You know // you know // you see // what’s going on with me // but you don’t do anything // you don’t do anything // you don’t do anything.” This character is at the end of a rope with this relationship and blames their partner even for their own problems.

The lyrics are simple and the music is minimal, which allows “Wrong!” to occupy any space needed for your situation. This could be a married couple headed towards divorce or it could be friends that don’t satisfy the needs they once did. This could be a new couple having their first fight. There aren’t any concrete details, so it’s anything. It’s certainly more universal than some of the more specific images in other songs, which is somewhat surprising for John Darnielle. There are a few songs like this out there that fill in the cracks when songs about a couple in Florida whose lives are crumbling don’t exactly match your current struggle.

195. Chino Love Song 1979

The simplest of scenes provides the setting for a connection in “Chino Love Song 1979.”

Track: “Chino Love Song 1979”
Album: Taking the Dative (1994), Ghana (1999)

As far as I can tell, one of the only live performances of “Chino Love Song 1979” was in California in 2014, where the Mountain Goats played all of Taking the Dative in order. The crowd erupts during every local mention and the performance is worth hearing just to hear the blown out, sped up version complete with bass. In the fury of the moment, John Darnielle quadruples the closing refrain. The crowd yells along with him through every version of “I saw you // against the soda machine // I saw you leaning there.” It’s a really simple set of lines, but it says so much with such a straightforward image. You can see it, can’t you? There is no suggestion of how it should make you feel, but it does make you feel something.

The song is 20 years old at the time of that live show. John Darnielle misses or specifically removes a few lines, which really drives home how important that closing image is. The rest of the song is mundane, especially with descriptions of everyday life like “the traffic on Riverside Drive was thin // but by no means nonexistent.” The cars don’t matter and the sunflower that consumes the second verse doesn’t matter. These images and surrounding details are just there to get us to the moment where one character sees another one.

If it’s autobiographical, John Darnielle was twelve years old in 1979. It doesn’t need to be about him, but one wonders what late-twenties John Darnielle thought about himself as a younger man if so. It requires two steps outside of our own existence to imagine another person imagining another version of themselves. Whoever it is, it’s astounding how much we get out of simple images and a casual setting.

 

194. Standard Bitter Love Song #8

“Standard Bitter Love Song #8” borrows a threat from an accused witch to talk about teenage love.

Track: “Standard Bitter Love Song #8”
Album: Taking the Dative (1994), Ghana (1999)

Lloyd Center is a three-story mall in Portland, Oregon. It’s an odd blend of ideas: the skating rink where Tonya Harding learned to skate, a for-profit college, a defunct Sears, and professional offices. It’s also a mall in Portland, which seems like an impossibility based on what we all think of when we think of Portland. Its Wikipedia article has a section titled “Crime,” though, so it makes sense as a location in a Mountain Goats song.

There are a few songs that share the “Standard Bitter Love Song” title, though there may not be eight. That doesn’t stop the existence of “Standard Bitter Love Song #8,” where one character pines over another at Lloyd Center. Most of the songs with this title structure are even angrier than normal Goats songs in this vein, and this one is no exception. Our narrator has “a mouth full of anger” and curses the couple with the damning “God will give them blood to drink.”

The refrain appears to come from The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne, where a character who is sentenced to death for witchcraft condemns their accuser with a similar line. It’s a gallows threat designed to leave those who will survive you with a chilling fear, which makes it perfect for the overblown emotions of a young person who feels spurned at the skating rink.

The song holds on this image. The narrator sees them leave and looks over the railing. The power of the standard bitter love songs is their ability to make dramatic images seem so perfect for mundane problems. Someone shoots a kite with a shotgun in one of them, but we get why. You grow out of these emotions, but when you’re skating-rink age, what’s more relatable than a lonely Friday night?

193. Orange Ball of Peace

“Orange Ball of Peace” lets us inside the mind of someone we wouldn’t normally want to visit.

Track: “Orange Ball of Peace”
Album: Taking the Dative (1994), Ghana (1999)

In June of 2014, John Darnielle played the entirety of Taking the Dative at a show in San Francisco. If you listen to it, you’ll hear the glee in people’s voices as they realize that he’s just playing it all the way through. Every now and again (and mostly in California), the band revisits a very old album and surprises a crowd. Some bands do this with “classic” albums where the audience knows every song, but John Darnielle likely has other motivations. At the 20-year anniversary of Taking the Dative, it’s as likely as anything else that he just wanted to see if he could still play all six songs.

This is the only chance to hear certain songs. Songs like “Wrong!” aren’t live show staples. The same is true for “Orange Ball of Peace,” though it is more recognizable overall as one of the four “Orange Ball” songs. It’s the standout of those, too, if for no other reason than the chorus: “I’m a fireman // I’m a fireman.”

Our narrator had expectations placed upon them as a young person. “They wanted me to be a lawyer,” they tell us, but no dice. They throw off all expectations and become a “fireman.” The second verse clears up that they mean they’re setting fires as they “watch the flames climb higher” and feel smoke get in their eyes.

“Orange Ball of Peace” may just be a short song about an arsonist, but it’s an interesting demonstration of economy of language. We don’t know why this person does what they do, but the first verse makes us sympathetic. That reversal of first to second verse allows us to find a dark situation fun, which you can hear over the crowd as they scream “I’m a fireman // I’m a fireman!”