Let's just put it this way: I'm never unhappy when I'm at a Mountain Goats show.
On Thursday night we got a new song or two, recent classics from The Sunset Tree and Get Lonely, detours into All Hail West Texas (yes, incl. "The Best Ever Death Metal Band Out of Denton" as one of THREE encores), and a pleasantly buffed up sound thanks to the touring presence of Jon Wurster on drums. They even looked fuckin' sharp as hell in their nicely tailored suits. (Swearta god: Peter Hughes, handsomest man in indie rock. Check out this ridiculous picture from last weekend's show in St. Louis.) Going out to see and hear music played live is one of the best things I do in my life, and it pretty much always yields some measure of joy, but there is just some sort of qualitative difference in the way I feel during and after I hear John Darnielle play some songs. People (including myself) have talked about the revival tent feeling of their gigs, and...yeah. Count me gladly among the faithful, the converted, the reverent. It's hard to know how much to gush without repeating myself, but it's also hard not to gush. This guy's the real deal, kittens.
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