Tag Archives: fandom

Mountain Goats Fans Are Dorks, Apparently

There’s a long profile of the Mountain Goats by Stephen Rodrick in New York Magazine that leaves me feeling a little icky. The author examines both John Darnielle as well as one of his particularly earnest young fans:

He looks more or less like the rest of the assembled Mountain Goats faithful, a cross section of earnest young poet boys, geeky music-philes, and self-styled off-the-grid types carrying messenger bags—nearly a thousand of whom have gathered here tonight to bathe in Darnielle’s light. Wesley follows his brethren inside, sips from a water bottle, and paces the lobby. He stops at the merch table and plunks down $12 on a Mountain Goats T-shirt.

I haven’t been to a Mountain Goats show in a couple years, but I remember the crowds being a little more diverse than that. But there’s a lot of personal information about Darnielle that I don’t recall being explicitly detailed before (heroin, meth). An interesting read, for sure, but it seems exploitative and manipulative to arrange the eventual meeting between them. And a little gross. Or something.

Neither the fan nor Darnielle appear to be put off by the article, since they both posted enthusiastic comments on the Mountain Goats forums.

Via LHB.

Fanatical Maniacs, Yesterday and Today

Beatles 4 EverThe Beatles fascinate me. Sure, I love their music, and it would be a sin to not appreciate their effect on popular music. But I’d be lying if I said they were one of my favorite bands. After spending all of my childhood and teenage years listening to and discussing them, I’m kind of burnt out on Revolver and Sgt. Pepper’s. What I really love about the Beatles is where they stand in the history of pop culture, not pop music.

A Hard Day’s Night is one of my all time favorite movies. Every time I watch it, my mind is completely boggled by one factor: the girls. Screaming girls are one part of pop culture that has never made sense to me. True, I spent my entire teenage years going to concerts, standing in the front row, and soaking up every bit of contact I could with my favorite musicians, feeling like I was touching greatness. I’ll admit that I sobbed like a baby when Tina Turner hit the stage at the United Center on her final world tour. Yet all of this idolatry and focus on pop stars has never been something I could understand—it was always just something I felt.

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