The Mountain Goats / Music Hall of Williamsburg

Photo by: Bryan Bruchman

It's a cult-y thing, a Mountain Goats show. And I'll admit this up front: I've been a believer since 1993, since back when the Mountain Goats catalog was mostly just John Darnielle bashing a guitar and singing into a four-track. In recent years, as Darnielle has moved toward cleaner recordings and more complex arrangements, more devotees have found their way into the fold—and this can only be a good thing. Fellow fanatics would agree, it's not about old-schoolers vs. newbies. It's about winning as many converts as possible, and coming together at the show to celebrate our common ground.

So the Music Hall of Williamsburg was packed on Wednesday, and Darnielle (despite being "sick in about seventeen different ways") was able to offer something for everyone, plus plenty of his trademark patter. The first half of the set was just him and his guitar; he dug into his 500-song repertoire for old favorites like "The Recognition Scene" and "Against Agamemnon," which was prefaced, as is not unusual for Darnielle, with some snappy discourse about mythology. Requests were shouted out, as they always are, and when he obliged with "Going to Port Washington," several audience members made sounds rather like the sounds teenagers used to make at the Beatles. (To the girl who jumped when I screamed in your ear: sorry!)

For the second half Darnielle was joined by his touring band—longtime bass accomplice Peter Hughes and drummer Jon Wurster, on loan from Superchunk—and ventured into newer territory, including a blistering rendition of "Lovecraft in Brooklyn" from his new record, Heretic Pride. The Mountain Goats as full-on rock band, who knew?

Though the crowd had sympathy for Darnielle's illness and creaky vocal cords, there was no way we were letting him leave without an encore. He came up with a compromise: he'd do "No Children" and "The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton," but he'd let us do the singing. Not a problem. Mountain Goats fans know the words. Moments later, 550 people were grinning and chanting the "Death Metal Band" chorus - "Hail Satan!" - at the top of their lungs. At the risk of sounding, well, heretic, it felt like a religious experience. —Mary Phillips-Sandy