Needless to say a rabid, unchained party animal John Darnielle ain't. All such a deduction requires is one solitary listen to
any one of the Mountain Goats' umpteen quintessentially sardonic LPs;
an evening spent in his wry company. But heck; every weekend can't be
a Bloc. and Matthew, John, Isaiah and Ezekiel know some days you just feel destined to slouch about in hideous slacks, observe the world from fastened window and act as though nobody may ever set eyes upon you again. That's thus according to the envisaging of a wide world devoid of webcams, Twitpics and other such vehicles of voyeuristic sleaze but you get the gist. And so, if ever wishing to wallow in this spurious environ of dampish figurative hermitage, the Mountain Goats ought surely soundtrack and All Devils Here Now differentiates not a nervous twitch from this aggrandising stereotyping. Lyrics of "eyes fixed firmly on the floor" and the ignoring of "shrieks, and squeals, and high-pitched whines" only exacerbate the isolation intrinsic to much of Darnielle's erudite output writ although over the hum of active crickets and rudimentary guitar, it is – and always would be – another epitome of exemplary desperation.
DOWNLOAD:
the Mountain Goats, All Devils Here Now.
