As the name suggests, The Mountain Goat’s Reinforced Safety Visor tour is not your average musical experience. With a set that spans from boiled peanuts to blood capsules, almost three decades of lead singer John Darnielle’s distinct lyricism condenses into a single concert, in a formerly-abandoned theater in Wilmington, DE.
After a slow opener, the crowd is in need of a pick-me-up. The Mountain Goats waste no time; they jog onto the stage and launch into “Jenny III,” an emotional number off their newest album. As the audience joins in, instead of the usual concert sing-shouting, I find myself part of a heartfelt chorus. We recount the titular character’s tragic journey as if she were a friend we all shared.
Throughout their set, Darnielle struts the stage with all the manic energy of a mad scientist in an 80s flick, grabbing objects and people alike. One song he taps a tambourine against his thigh, the next he clings to the shoulder of the band’s bassist, Peter Hughes, and a few songs later he grasps an apple for no apparent reason.
He doesn’t take a bite of it the entire night.
Only seven songs in, the band leaves. Just Darnielle, their oldest member, remains on stage, clutching his acoustic guitar and staring up at the spotlights as if he’s receiving a vision. He plays three songs, all from a time when The Mountain Goats was just him and his boombox.
While Darnielle is alone on stage, it doesn’t feel like it. The songs are short, and by far the most obscure of the night, but there is an enthralling nature to his voice’s simplicity. I sway along with the crowd, locking hands with a person beside me whom I’d never met. When the rest of the band returns, it’s as if a spell over the theater has broken; the moment is gone, yet not forgotten.
It hangs in my mind the rest of the set, and I scream with the crowd when we demand “encore, encore!” They launch into “Up the Wolves,” the first Mountain Goats song I’d ever heard, and I felt more present in that moment than ever before.
As the band files off for the second time, I hear myself begin to chant for more. The mantra is echoed around me, hundreds of voices with one purpose.
Seconds pass. The house lights are on now, and chunks of fans are making their way towards the exit.
Minutes pass. About a hundred people are still holding out hope.
The band returns.
They open their second encore, the first in over two years, with a line that encapsulates the band’s ethos; “Do every stupid thing that makes you feel alive.”
Comments