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Dez 19 2008, 9h41
Sun 14 Dec – The Mountain Goats
The following is an expurgated version of the review that appears in full at my blog.
After Wednesday night I didn't have any right to expect wonderful things for at least a month (maybe even a year!). Nevertheless, on Sunday night I found myself standing outside The Zoo, waiting to see The Mountain Goats for the second time in a week. How lucky!
I'd heard a radio interview the day before in which John Darnielle confessed to having strep throat, so I was more than a little nervous, especially as the Mountain Goats had played at the Meredith Music Festival just the day before. Perhaps surprisingly, it never occurred to me that the show might get cancelled; the foci of my fretting were:
1. Oh no, John is sick! Poor John. I hope he is not too sick and miserable. Aww, I just want to give him a hug.
2. Man, I hope he doesn't die or something.
3. If the show is horribly disappointing I am going to feel guilty for seeing them in good health in Melbourne.
4. Augh! Why aren't the doors open yet?
But eventually the doors were open.
Not having been to the Zoo before, I was very pleasantly surprised: despite the odd entry stairs which directed everyone past the bar on the way to the stage, it was a pleasingly lowbrow sort of venue with pool tables, dim lighting, grotty carpet on the stage, a "backstage area" with a graffitied door through which one could (and did!) spy on the performers, and no crowd barrier. Just the right sort of place to see the Mountain Goats.
The Support: Baseball
Surprised though I was that Baseball did not support the Mountain Goats as expected in Melbourne, after seeing them at the Zoo I think it is probably a good thing for me that they didn't. Not because I didn't like them - they were really excellent - but because I suspect that my companions at the Melbourne show would not have shared my enjoyment, and it's always less fun when someone is having too much less fun than me.
It's hard to know how to describe Baseball in a way that will do them justice. It certainly can't be done without the words 'punk', 'noise' and 'energy'; Patrick Donovan of The Age described them as "like The Cramps being shoved in a blender with the Dirty Three", which is as good a way as any to begin. Not the sort of thing I would tend to listen to when sitting around at home, but electrifying in a live setting.
Evelyn Morris and Monika Fikerle, both on bass guitar and drums, with Ben Butcher one of the more subdued excellent guitarists I've seen, provide an unrelenting foundation for frontman Cameron Potts (Also known as "Thick Passage", for reasons which escape me entirely) with his violin (which must be a tough piece of work, judging by the tattered state of its bow by the end of the set). Potts and Fikerle are the main vocalists, Fikerle's sometimes-ethereal, sometimes-biting lines an interesting counterpoint to Potts' squawks and howls.
Middle Eastern flourishes and an unflinching intensity make for a bone-crunchingly good time. I hope to see these guys play again sometime. An easy A.
The Main Event: The Mountain Goats
When John Darnielle walked out onto the stage it was almost anticlimactic; only the most subdued of responses from the audience, and the man himself looked a little the worse for wear. His fears and ours were soon allayed, however: after confessing that he was sick, and that doctors would probably tell him to cancel the show but he hated doing that, he played a few songs solo and acoustic to an adoring reception. As I described it more than once after the night, he loved us for being nice to him, we loved him for being John Darnielle, and it was just a room full of love. Probably a great relief for the man whose main memory of Brisbane from last time was of the room "bursting like an artery" after This Year.
After a trio of older songs -Elijah, Horseradish Road and There Will Be No Divorce - (which any Mountain Goats audience is sure to love, after all) and another wonderful rendition of Black Pear Tree, John forgot how to play Get Lonely and opted for Dinu Lipatti's Bones instead. A surprise grower from The Sunset Tree, and not a song I would ever have expected to get live, this just highlighted the marvellous lottery that is a Mountain Goats show - a special lottery, where everyone is a winner. A couple of live performances have also cured my ambivalence towards Thank You Mario But Our Princess Is In Another Castle, which is just a catchy little bit of loveliness.
Part of the way through In the Craters of the Moon (a song with which John has done amazing things on this tour), Peter Peter Hughes and Jon Wurster burst onto the stage and joined in, natty as ever and inspiring John and audience both with a burst of energy. A couple of songs later, an unexpected announcement: Peter Hughes would be singing for a while! Now, I did not know what to make of this at all, and I must confess to more than a moment of doubt. Would this be embarrassing? Would my careful selection of a spot on John's side of the stage prove to be a bad idea? Would PPH singing be a worse one?
Thankfully, the answers were "no", "no", and "oh, ye of little faith". After a slightly shaky start with International Small Arms Traffic Blues, PPH hit his stride during Love Love Love and then absolutely slaughtered See America Right and Palmcorder Yajna. The former was possibly the most fortuitous setlist substitution I will ever have the privilege to witness: Moon Over Goldsboro was down on the list, but I defy anybody to believe that See America Right PPH-style is that song's inferior in any way. Your love is like a cyclone in a swamp, and the weather's getting warmer!
Throughout these delights John was hopping about with his guitar, mouthing lyrics and now and then stepping up to the microphone, interacting with the audience and generally having a grand old time. I was happy to see the pleasure he took in PPH's moment in the spotlight, as it would have been horrible if he had not been able to enjoy the show - and it confirmed for me, yet again, that he is indeed an Excellent Person with many qualities worth emulating. Have I mentioned that I want to be John when I grow up? That said, I am pretty sure that PPH would be the most awesome person in just about any other band he chose to be in, so in the end I just feel a bit sorry for Wurster (who is an excellent drummer and brings a great deal to the live show, but was somewhat eclipsed).
Closing out the show with almost-entirely crowd-sung versions of perennial favourites This Year and No Children, John promised Brisbane something amazing next time, ruling out only a naked show. He explicitly did not rule out "assless pants" (a commodity which he claimed could have saved the relationship of the Alpha couple), so look out Brisbane when the Mountain Goats are next in town.
The following is an expurgated version of the review that appears in full at my blog.
After Wednesday night I didn't have any right to expect wonderful things for at least a month (maybe even a year!). Nevertheless, on Sunday night I found myself standing outside The Zoo, waiting to see The Mountain Goats for the second time in a week. How lucky!
I'd heard a radio interview the day before in which John Darnielle confessed to having strep throat, so I was more than a little nervous, especially as the Mountain Goats had played at the Meredith Music Festival just the day before. Perhaps surprisingly, it never occurred to me that the show might get cancelled; the foci of my fretting were:
1. Oh no, John is sick! Poor John. I hope he is not too sick and miserable. Aww, I just want to give him a hug.
2. Man, I hope he doesn't die or something.
3. If the show is horribly disappointing I am going to feel guilty for seeing them in good health in Melbourne.
4. Augh! Why aren't the doors open yet?
But eventually the doors were open.
Not having been to the Zoo before, I was very pleasantly surprised: despite the odd entry stairs which directed everyone past the bar on the way to the stage, it was a pleasingly lowbrow sort of venue with pool tables, dim lighting, grotty carpet on the stage, a "backstage area" with a graffitied door through which one could (and did!) spy on the performers, and no crowd barrier. Just the right sort of place to see the Mountain Goats.
The Support: Baseball
Surprised though I was that Baseball did not support the Mountain Goats as expected in Melbourne, after seeing them at the Zoo I think it is probably a good thing for me that they didn't. Not because I didn't like them - they were really excellent - but because I suspect that my companions at the Melbourne show would not have shared my enjoyment, and it's always less fun when someone is having too much less fun than me.
It's hard to know how to describe Baseball in a way that will do them justice. It certainly can't be done without the words 'punk', 'noise' and 'energy'; Patrick Donovan of The Age described them as "like The Cramps being shoved in a blender with the Dirty Three", which is as good a way as any to begin. Not the sort of thing I would tend to listen to when sitting around at home, but electrifying in a live setting.
Evelyn Morris and Monika Fikerle, both on bass guitar and drums, with Ben Butcher one of the more subdued excellent guitarists I've seen, provide an unrelenting foundation for frontman Cameron Potts (Also known as "Thick Passage", for reasons which escape me entirely) with his violin (which must be a tough piece of work, judging by the tattered state of its bow by the end of the set). Potts and Fikerle are the main vocalists, Fikerle's sometimes-ethereal, sometimes-biting lines an interesting counterpoint to Potts' squawks and howls.
Middle Eastern flourishes and an unflinching intensity make for a bone-crunchingly good time. I hope to see these guys play again sometime. An easy A.
The Main Event: The Mountain Goats
When John Darnielle walked out onto the stage it was almost anticlimactic; only the most subdued of responses from the audience, and the man himself looked a little the worse for wear. His fears and ours were soon allayed, however: after confessing that he was sick, and that doctors would probably tell him to cancel the show but he hated doing that, he played a few songs solo and acoustic to an adoring reception. As I described it more than once after the night, he loved us for being nice to him, we loved him for being John Darnielle, and it was just a room full of love. Probably a great relief for the man whose main memory of Brisbane from last time was of the room "bursting like an artery" after This Year.
After a trio of older songs -
Elijah, Horseradish Road and There Will Be No Divorce - (which any Mountain Goats audience is sure to love, after all) and another wonderful rendition of Black Pear Tree, John forgot how to play Get Lonely and opted for Dinu Lipatti's Bones instead. A surprise grower from The Sunset Tree, and not a song I would ever have expected to get live, this just highlighted the marvellous lottery that is a Mountain Goats show - a special lottery, where everyone is a winner. A couple of live performances have also cured my ambivalence towards Thank You Mario But Our Princess Is In Another Castle, which is just a catchy little bit of loveliness.Part of the way through In the Craters of the Moon (a song with which John has done amazing things on this tour), Peter Peter Hughes and Jon Wurster burst onto the stage and joined in, natty as ever and inspiring John and audience both with a burst of energy. A couple of songs later, an unexpected announcement: Peter Hughes would be singing for a while! Now, I did not know what to make of this at all, and I must confess to more than a moment of doubt. Would this be embarrassing? Would my careful selection of a spot on John's side of the stage prove to be a bad idea? Would PPH singing be a worse one?
Thankfully, the answers were "no", "no", and "oh, ye of little faith". After a slightly shaky start with International Small Arms Traffic Blues, PPH hit his stride during Love Love Love and then absolutely slaughtered See America Right and Palmcorder Yajna. The former was possibly the most fortuitous setlist substitution I will ever have the privilege to witness: Moon Over Goldsboro was down on the list, but I defy anybody to believe that See America Right PPH-style is that song's inferior in any way. Your love is like a cyclone in a swamp, and the weather's getting warmer!
Throughout these delights John was hopping about with his guitar, mouthing lyrics and now and then stepping up to the microphone, interacting with the audience and generally having a grand old time. I was happy to see the pleasure he took in PPH's moment in the spotlight, as it would have been horrible if he had not been able to enjoy the show - and it confirmed for me, yet again, that he is indeed an Excellent Person with many qualities worth emulating. Have I mentioned that I want to be John when I grow up? That said, I am pretty sure that PPH would be the most awesome person in just about any other band he chose to be in, so in the end I just feel a bit sorry for Wurster (who is an excellent drummer and brings a great deal to the live show, but was somewhat eclipsed).
Closing out the show with almost-entirely crowd-sung versions of perennial favourites This Year and No Children, John promised Brisbane something amazing next time, ruling out only a naked show. He explicitly did not rule out "assless pants" (a commodity which he claimed could have saved the relationship of the Alpha couple), so look out Brisbane when the Mountain Goats are next in town.
Comentários
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elemento Wonderful review! Apologies for the somewhat two years later comment, but on dark winter nights one is prone to purloining the depths of the intertrons.
