The Mountain Goats

There’s something truly romantic about the solo-artist-with-guitar archetype — the tortured balladeer who can only express feelings through song. Of course, the inherent populism of that simple formula (anyone can pick up a guitar and learn three chords — you can too!) attracts scores of aspiring amateurs who lack the personality to realize the conceit. All you’ve got is a guitar and your voice, pal; if you have nothing interesting to say, the coffee shop isn’t going to ask you back. Thank god for John Darnielle, the man who began the Mountain Goats with a guitar, a boom box and the most charming disquietude this side of Danny Torrance. The Goats’ latest, Heretic Pride, showcases everything that makes a great singer/songwriter — driving guitar work, fictionalized lyrics that paradoxically, chillingly bare the artist’s soul — and everything that’s not-so-slowly turning Darnielle into a borderline cult hero. The lyrics are Darnielle’s real strength, as they expose him for the confidently awkward acoustic nerdsmith he is. Who else would drop lyrical references to H.P. Lovecraft and former NFL running back Marcus Allen into a song about suspicion and paranoia (“Lovecraft in Brooklyn”)? While nothing on the slickly-produced Heretic Pride quite achieves the sing-along triumph of early low-fi classics like “Cubs in Five,” the presence of a tremendous supporting cast – including Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster – makes up for it. Erik Friedlander’s cello resonates with a warmth that recalls the immediacy of those signature boom box recordings, if not the aesthetic. But production aside, Darnielle’s broken, optimistic personality is what sets the Mountain Goats apart from your everyday jerk-off at the open mic. For Pete’s sake, he cribbed the album title from a lyric by a black metal band. Don’t you wanna just pinch his cheeks and snuggle?