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.