Musical interaction

I've been lucky enough to go to many shows recently.

Mountain Goats, Decemberists w/ Rebecca Gates, Deerhoof, Built to Spill.

Seeing the Mountain Goats and the Decemberists in the same week made me realize how much more I like the Mountain Goats than the Decemberists. I can't pretend that John Darnielle doesn't have a schtick, even though the schtick is part of what annoys me about the Dcmbrsts. He comes off as friendly on stage, but he's jerky by design--simply because he's on-stage. It's wonderful, though, to see a dork (let's be honest) get such a thrill out of playing and even writing songs. But, well, why not like the Decemberists? Charlie Haden's kid is in it, it must be good. In part, the reason is their cleverness. Both Colin Molloy and Darnielle are considered lyricists -- it has been written in the press and lo, it must be so. I understand from listening to his words that Molloy is very witty. He rhimes (rhymes?) "elan" with "divan" and then immediately uses the word "dalliant". SAT words are in force. But how much more Darnielle can do with so fewer syllables!

We are going to get through this
We are going to stay married
in this house like a Louisiana graveyard
where nothing dead stays buried
On Southwood Plantation Road
where the dead will walk again
put on their Sunday best
and go with unsupecting Christian men

That's not honors English diction, but it is honors English meaning.

Also, there aren't random characters. The Decemberists have a fetish for older language and scenes (therein, perhaps, lies the word-choice thing), but are we really supposed to get behind what they are talking about? Queer soldiers in a trench war? "Chimbly" sweeps (please) rodgering widows? (I know this is all one album, forgive me.) Old+sex+big words=deep, I guess. During some of their songs, I almost expected that John Lovitz "Tales of Ribaldry" character to come out, look sideway, put his hand to his mouth, and titter.

Now I'm not arguing that we're supposed to necessarily want to get into the lives of alcoholic, abusive married people in Florida or Texas speeddealers, but Darnielle's words take people way the hell into the mess others have made. And often, when I think he's taking a cheap turn (that song about the guy who shot the robber at the liquor store), he'll salvage it by the end (in that song by bringing up the first verse, and slightly modifying it). It's leaner and more effective.

The Decemberists played a wonderful show, in their little trench-coat, orange-scarf get ups. The crowd there was lapping them up. Poor Rebecca Gates got no respect from the crowd. Like a good Northwest indie rocker, she was not afraid to voice her displeasure. When a band is big enough to sell out the 9:30 club, it has arrived. When that show is being broadcast on NPR, you know it's even bigger.

The Moutain Goats show had more of what I wanted. There was an honest to god real encore. Not the fake rock-show encore where you know they're going to come back, either; Darnielle and the bassist (who's name I should know by now) and the folks from the opening bands who had played in the first encore, big band version of "Linda Blair was Born Innocent" or whatever song they had played left the stage, the house music started up, people stayed and clapped franticly, and Darnielle came back. They played the song "No Children" and he was frantic and jagged, and encouraged the crowd to sing. And they did. You heard them shouting along "I hope you die. I hope we both die.", both the crowd and the performer just eating each other up. It wasn't a recital, it was an experience. It was a man who's written often about the saving power of music putting it all into practice. I didn't know the words, I didn't know what the song was about, but I was completely sucked in, partly because you could tell (or at least be convinced) that the band (of 2 people) was sucked in too.

Music isn't there to help us prove how tasteful we are. This is a common thought in all of this music snobbiness, and you could look at indie dicks primarily but it's all over. Music is there to make our senses go crazy. It creates a taste in our mouths when there's nothing there. We feel different temperatures. For a second, you are in touch with something beyond the present moment, which is listening to well-organized (or, at least, purposefully-made) sound. And, I guess, the Decemberists just don't do it for me. I hope other people love that stuff the way I love other stuff, and don't just listen to them because they know the definition of "stevedores."