You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand
A week last Wednesday I skipped out of the Oxford office, and scooted back to London. I paused briefly to drop off my laptop and pick up my forgotten earplugs, and drove round to Shepherd's Bush. Normally I'd expect to get the tube to Shepherd's Bush, and I really should have done that because although there is a very convenient NCP carpark I had forgotten quite how staggeringly expensive it is.
Anyway, I got there. And got myself in to the venue, and bought a beer and found ChrisC. I continue to be vaguely appalled that the Empire's bottles of Old Speckled Hen are (a) kept in the fridge, (b) so expensive and (c) considerably less than a pint. Rotters. But the venue was emptyish, and we got ourselves tucked nicely into a little niche at one side.
The support act was Skylar Gudasz, whom I feel I ought really to have been more excited by. She sings, plays piano and guitar, and clearly has a sense of humour (witness the maudlin I'm So Happy I Could Die). Somehow, though, it just didn't quite come together for me.
I wasn't entirely sure what I was getting from the Mountain Goats. They are one of those bands where so long as you have the central character (John Darnielle) then you have the Mountain Goats, pretty much regardless of who else is on the stage. But last time we saw them it was a full band show, and this time it was only going to be Darnielle and one other chap whom we couldn't place. So I wasn't entirely sure what to expect.
As it turned out, the other chap was Matt Douglas, multi-wind-instrument and piano guy, who also sings. And, at various times, a couple of extra backing singers who seemed to have been roped in on spec for a couple of tracks from the new album.
(Not, as it turned out, the songs I'd have picked to have them on. If anything, the massively apocalyptic Rain In Soho from the new album deserves as many backing singers as it can get. Super-bonus points to the audience for doing a bloody good job on that one, especially on the outro.)
Anyway anyway, even without the rest of the band, it turned out to be a fabulous show. John Darnielle - despite being a self-confessed anti-social disliker of people - can anecdote entertaingly with the best of them, and isn't above sending up the most serious of his songs. Or explaining the vasty complicated backplot to any of this more impenetrable lyrics. Did you know that the (fictional) couple who star in No Children are actually living in a swampy part of Florida? No? Well, you wouldn't, but apparently that's where the song is set.
Most times, when I see a band, there are songs I'm hoping they'll put in the set. And of course there are here too, but as each new song started I figured actually I didn't care, because they're all great. With only two people on stage, they're not playing carbon copies of the recorded songs anyway, and I'm happy just to go along with whatever's happening.
The main set ended with the classic Up The Wolves, with almost everyone singing along. Which is no small feat, it's got a lot of words - Mountain Goats fans are nearly as determined as Los Campesinos! fans to sing along to everything. I wondered if the security staff ever find it weird to see hundreds of people singing along with these relatively obscure songs. (Answer: probably not, they're almost certainly use to it and see it every night.)
They came back for an encore, of course they came back for an encore, for the grit-teethed, bloodied, desperate optimism of This Year, and You Were Cool and the almost-drowned-out-by-the-crowd No Children. And then a second, rather more surprised-looking encore, which ended with the ever-popular Best Ever Death Metal Band In Denton. Hail Satan, chanted everyone, and shuffled off quietly into the night.
Incidentally, if you are a Mountain Goats fan, then I commend to you this podcast, which is created by one of the writers of Welcome To Nightvale, and in its first season is discussing all the tracks from All Hail West Texas in turn.
As the next step in the ongoing gotta-catch-em-all approach to Edinburgh Fringe shows, we bought tickets for Every Brilliang Thing at the Orange Tree theatre in Richmond. It's got a week left, and you should totally go and see it if at all possible.
Again, I went knowing basically nothing. So you could just stop reading here and go and buy a ticket, really. Although be warned: despite being hilarious and utterly lovely, it is ultimately about depression. It's an overwhelmingly positive play, but I guess it could be triggering for some people.
Really, it's the story of one person who set out aged about 7 to make a list of all the things worth living for. (Number one: ice cream. Number two: staying up late and watching TV...) Only one person is technically on stage, but various members of the audience are pressed into service as extra characters, voices, etc.
(Note, don't sit in the front rows if you don't want that to happen to you ;)
And really, although it is about depression, it is so full of laughter and so good-natured it's impossible not to get caught up in it. The creative use of the audience, and of various props, is very clever and really adds to the fun and slightly ramshackle feel.
[Originally posted at https://venta.dreamwidth.org/532080.html]
Anyway, I got there. And got myself in to the venue, and bought a beer and found ChrisC. I continue to be vaguely appalled that the Empire's bottles of Old Speckled Hen are (a) kept in the fridge, (b) so expensive and (c) considerably less than a pint. Rotters. But the venue was emptyish, and we got ourselves tucked nicely into a little niche at one side.
The support act was Skylar Gudasz, whom I feel I ought really to have been more excited by. She sings, plays piano and guitar, and clearly has a sense of humour (witness the maudlin I'm So Happy I Could Die). Somehow, though, it just didn't quite come together for me.
I wasn't entirely sure what I was getting from the Mountain Goats. They are one of those bands where so long as you have the central character (John Darnielle) then you have the Mountain Goats, pretty much regardless of who else is on the stage. But last time we saw them it was a full band show, and this time it was only going to be Darnielle and one other chap whom we couldn't place. So I wasn't entirely sure what to expect.
As it turned out, the other chap was Matt Douglas, multi-wind-instrument and piano guy, who also sings. And, at various times, a couple of extra backing singers who seemed to have been roped in on spec for a couple of tracks from the new album.
(Not, as it turned out, the songs I'd have picked to have them on. If anything, the massively apocalyptic Rain In Soho from the new album deserves as many backing singers as it can get. Super-bonus points to the audience for doing a bloody good job on that one, especially on the outro.)
Anyway anyway, even without the rest of the band, it turned out to be a fabulous show. John Darnielle - despite being a self-confessed anti-social disliker of people - can anecdote entertaingly with the best of them, and isn't above sending up the most serious of his songs. Or explaining the vasty complicated backplot to any of this more impenetrable lyrics. Did you know that the (fictional) couple who star in No Children are actually living in a swampy part of Florida? No? Well, you wouldn't, but apparently that's where the song is set.
Most times, when I see a band, there are songs I'm hoping they'll put in the set. And of course there are here too, but as each new song started I figured actually I didn't care, because they're all great. With only two people on stage, they're not playing carbon copies of the recorded songs anyway, and I'm happy just to go along with whatever's happening.
The main set ended with the classic Up The Wolves, with almost everyone singing along. Which is no small feat, it's got a lot of words - Mountain Goats fans are nearly as determined as Los Campesinos! fans to sing along to everything. I wondered if the security staff ever find it weird to see hundreds of people singing along with these relatively obscure songs. (Answer: probably not, they're almost certainly use to it and see it every night.)
They came back for an encore, of course they came back for an encore, for the grit-teethed, bloodied, desperate optimism of This Year, and You Were Cool and the almost-drowned-out-by-the-crowd No Children. And then a second, rather more surprised-looking encore, which ended with the ever-popular Best Ever Death Metal Band In Denton. Hail Satan, chanted everyone, and shuffled off quietly into the night.
Incidentally, if you are a Mountain Goats fan, then I commend to you this podcast, which is created by one of the writers of Welcome To Nightvale, and in its first season is discussing all the tracks from All Hail West Texas in turn.
As the next step in the ongoing gotta-catch-em-all approach to Edinburgh Fringe shows, we bought tickets for Every Brilliang Thing at the Orange Tree theatre in Richmond. It's got a week left, and you should totally go and see it if at all possible.
Again, I went knowing basically nothing. So you could just stop reading here and go and buy a ticket, really. Although be warned: despite being hilarious and utterly lovely, it is ultimately about depression. It's an overwhelmingly positive play, but I guess it could be triggering for some people.
Really, it's the story of one person who set out aged about 7 to make a list of all the things worth living for. (Number one: ice cream. Number two: staying up late and watching TV...) Only one person is technically on stage, but various members of the audience are pressed into service as extra characters, voices, etc.
(Note, don't sit in the front rows if you don't want that to happen to you ;)
And really, although it is about depression, it is so full of laughter and so good-natured it's impossible not to get caught up in it. The creative use of the audience, and of various props, is very clever and really adds to the fun and slightly ramshackle feel.
[Originally posted at https://venta.dreamwidth.org/532080.html]