THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

3/8/02, The Empty Bottle, Chicago

Johnny Loftus

“Hey everybody, We’re the Mountain Goats!”

And with that, John Darnielle and his acoustic guitar launched into his headlining set at Chicago’s Empty Bottle. That’s the joke – Over the course of numerous albums as the Mountain Goats, Darnielle has never recorded with much more than his own earnest vocal chords and guitar, straight into the no-fi mic on his archaic boom box. His driving, wordy songs sketch out tales of wac relationships, true love, and booze. Often, they turn into a history or geography lesson, as if Darnielle’s conducting a refresher course for his legion of indie rock followers, who were too busy writing Sebadoh lyrics on their notebooks to listen in class.

In the late 1970s, Jonathan Richman’s short hair and old-world romantic sensibilities were opposite to, yet somehow an intrisic part of, the punk/new wave movement that was thriving all around he and The Modern Lovers. Spiked-belted East Village fancy boys pumping their tatooed fists to “Dignified and Old?” It happened. Similarly, Darnielle’s clean-cut looks and complete lack of pretense set him apart from the groups/artists surrounding Mountain Goats albums in the record collections of his constituency. And yet, the vintage clothing set is rabid for his acoustic troubadour witticisms. On Friday night at the Bottle, Darnielle’s self-effacing nature, chuckling anecdotes, and folksy delivery made for a sort of Prairie Home Companion for indie kids.

Darnielle is a talented songwriter. But his formula of a straightforward guitar line, clever turn of phrase, and emotional, barely restrained vocal delivery inevitably wears thin. After half an hour of jangling chords and heartfelt singing, the line between the Mountain Goats and the average stool-rocker at your local open mic night is in great danger of being crossed, or destroyed altogether. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Guys who serenade crowded lounges each weekend with acoustic renditions of “Allison,” “Ain’t No Sunshine,” and “Secondhand News” serve their purpose.

But what’s really separating John Darnielle from those guys, besides a gamut of releases on pedigreed labels like Emperor Jones or 4AD? The meat of his songs, the lyrics, definitely contain more emotion than the average busker. To be sure, Darnielle on Friday had at least 20 professional hipsters passionately singing along with their impossibly normal hero. But if Garrison Keillor books a club tour, will he get the same reaction?

JTL