181. Surrounded

“Surrounded” kicks off a story about people that hide among us and some questionable rewards for dark deeds.

Track: “Surrounded”
Album: Moon Colony Bloodbath (2009)

Moon Colony Bloodbath is difficult to explain, but “Surrounded” is as good a place as any to try. John Vanderslice (who produces for the Mountain Goats and is an amazing artist in his own right) and John Darnielle wanted to create a “rock opera” about the men and women who travel to a secluded moon base for six months of the year to harvest organs from bodies. In their time off they live among us, but secluded in Colorado so as to not reveal their secret. The resulting seven-song EP is outstanding and made more outstanding by John Darnielle’s mock insistence at live shows that this is not a story, but a true conspiracy that people seem to ignore.

“Surrounded” explains the upside for these workers. In their time back on the ground, they live in almost comic opulence. The narrator has their own power source to watch a 96-inch TV and six months of time to kill. The catches are numerous (they are alone, they will be alone, and they will have to go back to the moon to harvest the living again in two seasons) and thus the rewards aren’t worth it.

The mood on Moon Colony Bloodbath gets darker and darker as it proceeds towards the final, dark song, but “Surrounded” encapsulates everything. It’s the song that John Darnielle plays live and it’s really the standout. Filled with handclaps and jaunty harmonica, “Surrounded” faces the darkness with a lying smile. “Let me die, let me die // surrounded by machines” is haunting in context, but it works for so many other situations. You’ll identify with the narrator less and less as you listen to other tracks, but “Surrounded” might hit closer to home than a song that starts an album about a moon base normally should.

180. An Inscription at Salonae

 

A narrator makes a hard choice and lives with it among a deceptive setting in “An Inscription at Salonae.”

Track: “An Inscription at Salonae”
Album: Jack and Faye (Unreleased, recorded 1995 or 1996)

Jack and Faye is a four-song, unreleased EP from the final days of the John Darnielle and Rachel Ware Mountain Goats. All four songs feature one person talking to another person about a shared past. It’s probably not intentional, but it’s a fitting way for the original Mountain Goats lineup to end their time together.

Salona was a city in ancient Rome and is located in modern-day Croatia. The characters from “An Inscription at Salonae” live there, thousands of years ago, and are involved in some heavy activity. The song opens peacefully enough with images of women playing tambourines and men blowing trumpets. The song has a bouncy feel to it that suggests this might be a feast or a party, but the lyrics quickly depart from the tone of the song.

The narrator repeatedly mentions that they are “falling to pieces.” The source of their strife becomes clear with mention of “a young man on the altar” that they are poised above. One person watches from the crowd as the other makes a hard choice above a child on an altar. We can assume what happens.

John Darnielle loves to spend time in unfamiliar settings. Ancient times come up a lot, since we can quickly relate to other humans but struggle to contextualize their limited understanding of the world. This interaction is a brutal one, most likely, and the narrator says “it was not that long ago // but the memory’s kinda dying out, you know.” We can take that to mean that this isn’t someone to root for, but it seems more likely that this is  compartmentalization. The inscription in the title is on a headstone and though death was more part of daily life in Salona than now, we all still have to process the unprocessable.

 

178. The Recognition Scene

“The Recognition Scene” chooses an unlikely location to show us a familiar event in our lives.

Track: “The Recognition Scene”
Album: Sweden (1995)

Sweden opens with a couple stealing candy from a store. In “The Recognition Scene,” they grab huge quantities of garbage food and drive around eating it, unsure of what their actions mean. It’s an interesting crime, and the seemingly low stakes nature of it doesn’t tell us if these are hardened criminals or just normal junkies.

The key to “The Recognition Scene” is in the refrain: “I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone.” The narrator senses that an end is coming, even if it’s at least months away. They describe a “three-month ride” after the robbery, so we know as an audience that there is time to come. That doesn’t necessarily mean it will be happy time, of course, and continued presence of characters in Mountain Goats songs definitely doesn’t imply that it will always be a positive experience.

A “recognition scene” is a moment in film or literature where one or more characters has a sudden flash of understanding. It can mean a big reveal (he was dead the whole time) or a more subtle one (he’s not the man I thought he was). In this case, we don’t know what the characters learn about each other. They might not know themselves, as the narrator says “I saw something written in tall clear letters on your face // but I could not break the code.”

It is enough to know that this scene told the narrator it is going to be over, eventually. In bad stories characters explode and yell at each other to signify the end, but more often it is like this. They both know, from this moment filled with illegal Snickers and Skittles, it is not going to last, but there’s still three-plus months to go.

177. How I Left the Ministry

 

A series of romantic gestures from two unlikely characters complicates a quick look at a preacher’s infidelity.

Track: “How I Left the Ministry”
Album: Undercard (2010)

Franklin Bruno, John Darnielle’s partner in the offshoot band The Extra Lens, wrote “How I Left the Ministry.” I was shocked to learn that, but it makes sense because of how savage the result is. The only difference between the two seems to be that John Darnielle implies most of his darker results and Franklin Bruno is comfortable with more explicit language, but even that is me reaching. The two are clearly kindred spirits and that’s what makes their side band work.

“How I Left the Ministry” opens with a set of explosive tones that could be mistaken for “triumphant” if not for the first verse. Immediately, our narrator tells us that they’re in a major car accident and they’re with their neighbor’s wife. Undercard opens with a screaming, roaring song called “Adultery,” so we’re definitely in familiar territory, but it’s unique because of the title. The song never mentions it, but “How I Left the Ministry” is a much more powerful title after you know what happens to our narrator.

At 102 seconds, “How I Left the Ministry” is over in a flash. It’s one car accident and several reflective lines and then it’s gone. That makes it all the more impressive how many details are crammed into 12 lines. The person in the passenger seat traces a heart on the driver’s leg and we feel empathy. The power of a song like this (and spiritual, younger cousin “Alibi”) is in the ability to twist our expectations. This is a religious figure in the community and someone’s wife, so in the absence of other details we aren’t expected to want them to make it to the Days Inn. It’s never that simple in a Mountain Goats song, no matter which name they’re using.

176. Cold Milk Bottle

 

Our narrator insists that they’re making it okay after a toxic situation in “Cold Milk Bottle.”

Track: “Cold Milk Bottle”
Album: Sweden (1995)

I talk about live shows a lot because they’re so fascinating. “Cold Milk Bottle” has been played at least twice, and was recorded at this New York show in 1997. The setlist from that night is outstanding, and it’s hard not to smile at the fact that right after “Cold Milk Bottle” John Darnielle rants at the crowd to stop requesting “Going to Georgia” because they’ve all heard it “at least twice.” Considering that’s how he felt in 1997, it’s amazing it stayed in the rotation for as long as it did.

On that night in New York in 1997, John Darnielle’s voice cracked several times. The best moment is during the “You’re mean to me // why must you be mean to me?” moment in “Cold Milk Bottle” because it feels very real. Most of the characters on Sweden are difficult, challenging people, and “Cold Milk Bottle” ends the album for a reason. One character sends “another goddamned message” to another and neither of them is happy about it. This relationship is over, hopefully, and the animosity is all that remains.

“I feel all right” is a powerful refrain. “Well, despite your best efforts, I feel all right” is even more powerful. When we listen to “Cold Milk Bottle,” we feel for the speaker. We know what it feels like to be haunted by someone else and the strength it takes to shout back into the void about how fine we are. This character leaves Sweden demanding that they’re okay and that they don’t care who knows it. There are more powerful, more insistent messages among the more recent Goats songs, but it’s nice to know that even an early narrator made it out alive.

175. I Know You’ve Come to Take My Toys Away

 

One character responds to bad news with childish language in “I Know You’ve Come to Take My Toys Away.”

Track: “I Know You’ve Come to Take My Toys Away”
Album: Nine Black Poppies (1995)

After the quietly bitter “Pure Money” but before the furious “Nine Black Poppies” lies “I Know You’ve Come to Take My Toys Away” on Nine Black Poppies. It’s an angry album, and most of the tracks describe some sort of argument or fury. “I Know You’ve Come to Take My Toys Away” bridges two songs about different versions of the same emotion and has much more fun than either other song.

“I Know You’ve Come to Take My Toys Away” is not a happy song, but it’s very bouncy. You can’t help but snap along with the beat. You find yourself humming or singing along with John Darnielle’s repetitions as Rachel Ware provides backing vocals. The ending “and when it drops // you’re gonna feel it // oh, oh, yeah!” is almost triumphant. It would be fun if it weren’t so ominous.

No one is on the record about “I Know You’ve Come to Take My Toys Away” as far as I can tell. The only live performance in the usual sources comes from a show in Belgium in 1996 where they played the song as it is on the album and offered no additional context. Given the rest of Nine Black Poppies and the opening verse’s mention of “your terrible confession,” we can assume this day did not go well for either character. The sun sets and the argument continues, with the narrator insisting the other character has come for dark purposes.

“Toys” is an odd word choice for the title, though it does successfully make the narrator seem childish. This may be a relationship’s end or it may be other bad news, but we’re left to imbue our own meaning. We just know someone feels slighted and they have a particular way of expressing it.

174. Going to Reykjavik

One character considers their options and pines for a missing love during some introspection.

Track: “Going to Reykjavik”
Album: Nothing for Juice (1996)

The power of a good song is often the same as our ability to relate to it. Most love songs remain as general as possible and talk about feelings, since we can all relate to “that one night” or “loving you so much.” No one has mailed most of us coffee from Thailand and most of us don’t have oil lamps and wind chimes, which makes “Going to Reykjavik” a bit of a risk in that department.

John Darnielle writes relatable music, but the details are often so specific that they couldn’t describe your life. In “Going to Reykjavik” the narrator drinks Thai coffee and boils milk as they think about someone absent. These scenes give way to a general “I am coming to you” repetition of a chorus. There is a longing here that you may recognize in yourself, even if the setting doesn’t feel familiar.

“Going to Reykjavik” directly follows “Waving at You” on Nothing for Juice. “Waving at You” is a furious song about divorce. It’s quiet and angry and best sung through clenched teeth. “Going to Reykjavik” feels like it could be about the same couple, but in a very different time. The guitar feels solemn and there is pain in John Darnielle’s voice. These two may still be in love and only separated by distance, but one then has to wonder why the narrator describes themselves as “broken and tired” directly after supposedly remaking themselves.

173. Short Song About the 10 Freeway

 

“Short Song About the 10 Freeway” is just that, but it’s also a look into the distant past.

Track: “Short Song About the 10 Freeway”
Album: Songs for Peter Hughes (1995) and Bitter Melon Farm (1999)

In September of 2016, John Darnielle played a show in Columbus, Ohio and played “Short Song About the 10 Freeway.” He said it was the first song he ever played outside of California. He followed it up with two of the other songs from Songs for Peter Hughes. It seems like it was a cool show.

There’s more to know, here. In 1994, John Darnielle played at a venue in Columbus named Stache’s. You can hear a tape of the 24-minute performance, where John Darnielle sounds very young and closes with the 51-word “Short Song About the 10 Freeway.” Stache’s is closed now and is remembered by some heartfelt blog posts and a brief comment at that 2016 show where John Darnielle says he knows the tape is out there but he hasn’t listened to it.

I tell you all this to make you consider what memory means. The title tells you this is a short song, indeed there are barely 50 words in it. As you listen to 500+ songs on your journey through the world of the Mountain Goats, you will spend very little of it with this one. You’ll never go to Stache’s again and you’ll never hear the Mountain Goats in 1994 again. You will, however, briefly picture a sunset and a person in a car in California and you will experience the odd peace that this image grants you. Rachel Ware’s backing vocals and the deliberate strumming will help you. You will picture this and you will move on, but consider for a moment what John Darnielle saw in this image in 1994 in a bar named after the owner’s mustache. The devil really is in the details.

172. Prana Ferox

“Prana Ferox” is about a tub of whiskey that’s both a metaphor and a catalyst for bad things to come.

Album: Sweden (1995)
Track: “Prana Ferox”

It could be a drinking song, but most of them could be drinking songs. John Darnielle says “Prana Ferox” is “about alcohol,” and it certainly follows a narrator checking on a home distilling project. While they peer into a vat of whiskey, their lover is upstairs “with [your] head against the sink // trying to cool down // trying to cool down.” The song dissolves into chaotic guitar as the narrator ponders the disparity between the “new life” in the vat of sour mash and their own situation.

Is it a drinking song? Not really, at least not in the way most bands would write one. No one drinks anything and the alcohol itself hasn’t even arrived yet. That doesn’t mean the alcohol doesn’t explain something about the relationship. There’s nothing inherently troubling about a couple making whiskey in their basement, but you can hear in John Darnielle’s wailing final verse that these two are anxious for this project to complete.

“Prana” means “life force” and “ferox” means “savage,” very roughly. “Prana Ferox” drops us in the middle of another troubled relationship, but also opens with an inspirational sample from what sounds like a meditation tape. The sample promises us we’ll be okay today. It’s especially relevant for these two, since they probably will be okay today. The narrator delivers “I know you don’t believe me, but I could hear you breathing” with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Alcohol serves as a temporary solution for many doomed Mountain Goats couples, but rarely is it this direct. We know as an audience that it is all for naught, but you do get the sense that there are still desperate last-ditch attempts to come in the drunken nights that tub will enable.

171. Golden Jackal Song

“Golden Jackal Song” describes a scene where two old lovers meet up again, to ambiguous ends.

Track: “Golden Jackal Song”
Album: New Asian Cinema (1998)

So many Mountain Goats songs are about the interactions between two people. “Golden Jackal Song” accompanies “Korean Bird Paintings” on New Asian Cinema and fits right in as a comparative love song about the challenges two people face. In “Korean Bird Paintings” we only see the narrator as we watch them fill a room with meaningless gifts to create a grand gesture. In “Golden Jackal Song” we get to see more.

The “plot” of “Golden Jackal Song” follows one character who comes into town and feels “wicked impulses” about calling an old friend but “couldn’t let them die.” The power of the Mountain Goats is in both the vastness of the catalog and the specificity of the language. You might never have had the exact experience in this song, but as these two characters move into the kitchen you are very likely to remember something. “When I saw your kitchen // glistening like the old country // all your cups and glasses // lined up in front of me” is just scene setting. It isn’t meant to make you feel anything, but it is meant to make you remember.

Golden jackals will eat dead animals. Our character refers to themselves as eating carrion as they revisit the home of these old memories. The characters kiss at the end of the song, but they do so during a description of eating “rich, raw carrion, until I couldn’t think right.” Depending on how you feel about the memory that revisiting an old space, going to a kitchen, and seeing an old friend conjures up for you, maybe carrion is nourishing or maybe it’s disgusting. The guitar and the light tone John Darnielle uses doesn’t tilt it one way or the other, which means this can be a song just for you.