The Rosemount, Perth, Australia - 16th September, 2005
Two and a half hours before the Rosemount crowd unify in a chant of I am going to make it, through this year, if it kills me, I'm boxed in a little white, perpetually stalling hatchback swarming over the gears, and beseeching the Gods of motorized transport, let not the engine cut out again, especially not at another busy intersection; jibbering and chanting to myself 'I am going to make it, to this gig, if it kills me'. Despite being swamped in a nervous fever, I gather my wits, decide to go around the main freeway. If I stall on these streets it's not the end of the world. If it happens when I'm doing 100, well...
Johnathan Darnielle is burning. Seriously, I never would have imagined it. Here is a guy who on record sounds like he hates the world so much, even if he is writing in character, which he regularly does, a bitter, empty shell. This is the man who once sang the reason the sunlight hurts our eyes is because it reminds us that we're dying and People say friends don't destroy one another, What do they know about friends? Tonight he's on fire. It's totally stumped my expectations that he'll likely curl up into a small ball and expire. But then tonight is a series of revelations, so let's begin with that:
Nano-revelation 1: 'The Broom People' is about how if you're struggling at high school the best thing you can do is have lots of sex. Amen to that. I'm not about to go uprooting any unhealthy stories from the dark distant past but I think this is something everyone can relate to.
Nano-revelation 2: The Czechs have a word litost that has no direct English equivalent but can be defined as "a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery "; according to Milan Kundera at any rate. Now before this reportage takes a wrong turn down into tales of former soviet Czechoslovakia, I should get back to the gig and the sage advice JD is dealing out, namely that if should you ever find yourself living with the person you love in a house (well, duhh, he notes midflow), and the only things left in that house is the refrigerator, the TV and the ashtray, sooner or later your going to argue over who has possession of the ashtray. After something of a psychological battle one of you will probably say 'its only an ashtray', to which there really is no good response. However, just as a backup plan you may wish to have a copy of Game Shows Touch Our Lives handy to help you out of this situation. Before any gig I'll always make a mental wish for at least one song that's by no means obvious or likely to be included but one that I'd be entranced by nonetheless. Tonight this is it, if only for the line our house sinking into disrepair, ah, but look at this showroom filled with fabulous prizes. It's one of those moments when you realise the bottom has fallen out and that little Czech word comes in very handy.
Nano-revelation 3: MGs have sold out all their Aus dates JD informs us, and whilst he is aware of the hackneyed rock style convention of the frontman booming 'you guys are the best' even when there's only three people present, playing to a packed Rosemount you only have to see the guys face to believe every word of it.
Nano-revelation 4: JD has a (West Coast) Eagles football and he can make it bounce from the floor into his hand, although he admits it took him two weeks to figure out how to do it. We're talking an Aussie rules football here just in case there's a whole swathe of readers queuing up with a soccer ball. He seems a little baffled by the booing when he mentions West Coast, possibly not realising that half the room are Dockers fans, but at least the man's taking an interest.
Nano-revelation 5: JD, as he tells us, has been attempting to get a crowd to pogo to See America Right for while and has come to the conclusion that at two minutes and twenty seconds that's no small pogo request. Consequently he asks that when he gives the signal, if we would go nuts for the last 15 seconds it would fulfill his fantasy. A pandemic of zealous if not entirely synchronised bouncing erupts. JD gives thanks and heartily toasts us with 'This Year', delivered at full throttle, to which everyone sings the chorus, 'I am going to make it, through this year, if it kills me'.
I should interject here and just mention that Mountain Goats are a two piece; or at least live they are, everything is pretty much credited to Darnielle. It's certainly a striking feature compared to the Fantomas gig I was at the previous night which featured a strong contender for the world's most expansive drum kit, a kaleidoscope of microphones, and heaven knows what else. All MGs have brought onto stage is one acoustic and bass guitar, which is played, alas I'm unsure of this guy's name, with subtle effectiveness.
Nano-revelation 6: How brief can the gap between encore and main set be? I wasn't timing it but that had to be less than a minute, really, not much longer than it takes to light a cigarette. Which JD does, face melting under the spotlight, before rousing us to the finish with The Best Death Metal Band in Denton. There's a school of thought I found in a recent Pitchfork review that MGs "sound best after obsessively replaying each track until they become as familiar as your own personal memories". I confess, I'm like-minded. The quite splendid Chris Irvine informs me that this is the best vibes at a gig he's experienced in a long time. Although by this stage of the evening, that's no longer any kind of revelation.
Nano-revelation 7: "Hey, I didn't know you liked Mountain Goats" seems to be the recurring theme amongst many chance meeting friends here this evening. Maybe we can start a movement here. Its about time.
As experienced by G.
More photos by the magnificent Stuey Bender who perched over a monitor case by the stage and the stage itself to get these shots. kudos.
outpatients