When 600-plus people are standing on top of one another at a venue to see your services, and you’re a long-tenured indie band that seemingly has nothing more to prove, you can be sure that hundreds more want access to the gig. Insert the Mountain Goats — a band whose roster has undergone plenty of changes in its many years of existence but has sustained success — and their demographically uncategorizable fanbase.
At the Majestic Theatre on July 8, the Mountain Goats performed after their synth-oriented folk-rock opener, The Lonelyhearts, and divulged how they’ve become so credentialed: through novelistic writing, indispensable authenticity and musicianship, as well as articulate accounts of events that could bind many a biography — all since the early days of Bill Clinton’s presidency.
Donning black blazers, with each band member emboldening his own shade of button-up, the Mountain Goats came out after anyone’s mealtime (besides, of course, those who were traipsing up and down nearby King St). A few moments passed, before the band charged into “Rain in SoHo,” the first number off the band’s latest release, Goths.
Though the band waived the usage of guitars (not counting bass guitars) on the new album, Darnielle was equipped with an electric, adding extra voltage to the pulsating Jon Wurster-induced drumbeats. The next track, “Andrew Eldritch Is Moving Back to Leeds,” played and had Matt Douglas supply a flute’s light, lush tone — one of many offered on the night by Douglas, the newest member of the band — while the crowd was finally able to be heard, given the playful mellowness of the track.
Darnielle, the singer-songwriter who has captained this Mountain Goats ship since its infantile years, engaged with the audience in a rare solo set, mid-concert, revealing: how terrible his tuner was; how he fortuitously assembled a setlist filled with songs about amphetamine addiction, domestic violence and suicide; and just how much he appreciated the fans.
Reflecting on his younger days, Darnielle played “Maybe Sprout Wings,” and mentioned how many of his childhood friends are now deceased. To brighten things up, Darnielle mentioned the outpouring of support Wisconsin’s capital has given the group in recent years, going as far as to say that “{the Mountain Goats} will be back.” The show marked the second straight time the band sold out the Majestic Theatre.
Though much critical acclaim has greeted Goths, the group didn’t shy away from older fan-favorites, like “Up the Wolves,” a number about one’s formative years that appeared on The Sunset Tree, from 2005, as well as arcane songs in the band’s discography, such as “Steal Smoked Fish” and “I’m Just a Pig,” a dedication to one of Darnielle’s sons that includes snorts and oinks.
Throughout the night, the crowd’s collective footsteps sounded like an enthused group of ungulates on the venue’s wooden floor, syncopating to the rhythm section par excellence.
Douglas bounced from saxophone to flute, while Darnielle, wearing a grin and headbanging the sweat from his forehead countless times, went from electric guitar to keyboard, and back again. The crowd’s gusto remained unwavering. Bassist Peter Hughes and Darnielle shot each other occasional glances, with the latter showering his bandmates with endearing praise.
“Foreign Object” and “Heel Turn 2” — two songs that appear on Beat the Champ, an album that chronicles a “good guy” who lets loose and becomes a professional wrestler — provided a good counterpoint to the more vivacious, torso-puppeteering “Werewolf Gimmick,” which, as fans know, is likely the Mountain Goats at their most aggressive.
The role of ringleader may seemingly go to Darnielle in the live element, but the lead singer deflected one fan’s constant yawp of “John,” and instead recommended the fan give credit to the whole band. This back-and-forth bit triggered sustained laughter.
On one of the last tracks of the setlist, “Shelved,” Darnielle talked about the morass of caprice and distance between certain bands and their respective labels, likening it to the role of a dishwasher and its implied studiousness toward a bossy archetype.
“It’s like being asked to wash dishes — and being scorned for it,” Darnielle said, mentioning the fact that record labels can love what one group is doing during the production of one project, only to abandon ship a few years later.
For a band comprised of not one person under thirty-five-years old, the Goats brought it, visibly hallmarking the fact that nothing can stop the group’s groove that has been going for a quarter century. Perhaps, recounting the group’s catalogue doesn’t do enough justice, nor does giving only one member a pass for kick-ass musicianship.
Regardless of what any music reviewer may say, the Mountain Goats will be back, whether physically in Madison or auditorily, with more genre-transcending music. Hopefully, both.