The Lost City of Vanport: How a Flood and Racism Changed Portland
Death. Taxes. The Mountain Goats.
God forbid John Darnielle ever decides to hang up the guitar and seek out a new career--perhaps it will be blogging about French metal bands--because right now he's as reliable, but less feared, than both death and taxes.
Every year there will be a new Mountain Goats record. And it will be fucking fantastic. Sure, it might not hit you like the first time you screamed along with him at the Doug Fir (I'm pretty sure I can recognize my own howling voice in that clip), but it will be stellar nonetheless. There will be Mountain Goats tours (bigger venues each time, but it's okay, you feel as if he's earned them), and more records, then tours, and records, and just the very notion that Darnielle might stop someday--whether it by retirement's longing tug, the cold embrace of European metal bands, or the even colder embrace of death--saddens me greatly. It's a selfish reaction, of course, but who would want to live in a world without the Mountain Goats? Not me.
Thankfully all is well, and Darnielle and company (including opener/collaborator Kaki King, who does ridiculous things with a guitar) will be at the Wonder Ballroom tonight. Expect a slew of great songs, more tales of his Portland youth, and (hopefully) none of my off-key screaming.
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