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In his online music 'zine Last Plane to Jakarta, John Darnielle once suggested that perhaps the largest problem we face on a daily basis is a lack of beauty. He didn't mean this statement to be the unifying theory for his own work, but it does cast his Mountain Goats albums in an interesting light. From its title to its final track, All Hail West Texas can easily be read as a search for beauty.
The search starts when the album does; you have to have a receptive attitude to get past the initial shocks of Darnielle's technically unimpressive voice and his dismal production values. All Hail West Texas, recorded entirely on an ancient boombox notorious for its eccentric operation, is saturated with a pervasive hum, like a distant airplane passing overhead. This is the stereo's gears grinding themselves down -- it hadn't worked for years before, but suddenly started again, and Darnielle made use of it accordingly. The sound occasionally drifts toward the left speaker for no particular reason, then suddenly bounces back, and sometimes the equipment produces a soft thumping sound. Darnielle isn't much of a singer, either. He declares things more than he sings them, shouting each note in a monotonous litany. But if you go in with an open mind, actively seeking something to enjoy, these details quickly cease to matter. Eventually, they even become endearing. Besides, we don't go to folk singer/songwriters for lush sonic experiences.
You learn to like Darnielle in spite of his flaws. This is the perfect mindset for appreciating the stories he tells. In beauty, you want a deep-water fish -- one that can comfort you long after the pressure on your skin begins to make your ears ring. There are wonderful pieces in all of us that will hold on even as our lives go crashing down. In "Fall of the Star High School Running Back", Darnielle illustrates this principle beautifully. The sympathy in his voice never wanes, no matter how low the song's protagonist sinks. "By July / You'd made a whole bunch of brand new friends / People you used to look down on / And you'd figured out / A way to make real money / Giving ends to your friends and it felt stupendous / Chrome spokes on your Japanese bike but / Selling acid was a bad idea / Selling it to a cop was a worse one", he sings. He could stop here. It wouldn't be a surprise if he did -- what bigger villain is there in the inferiority complex-laden world of indie music than the star football player, after all? But he goes on. "So I sing this song for you / William Standiforth Donahue / Your grandfather rode the boat over from Ireland / But you made a bad decision or two." This final touch does nothing to advance the story, but it communicates what every decent human being ought to know anyway -- even in negligent drug dealers, there are things worth salvaging. Major fuck-ups are people, too.
"Color in Your Cheeks" is about people who take other people in and care for them, regardless of where they come from or why they're there. What could be more related to the search for beauty than taking in strangers and getting to know them?
"Jenny" is about two criminals in love taking to the road again; they'll find and take something they can love: "Hi-diddle-dee-dee / God damn! / It's a pirate's life for me!" "Fault Lines" is about two people who never stop failing to find beauty. They import fine foods and buy themselves cars while neglecting their love. They are miserable people. Why can't they just love each other?
"Balance" follows. The lyrics speak for themselves: "And the love we once nurtured / You and me / Disintegrating violently / Stick your tongue out / Catch the pieces as they drift down the air / I am too slow to catch them all / But not too far gone to care."
"Riches and Wonders" is a lovely and honest tribute to a wonderful relationship. It's one of those truly amazing songs that Darnielle writes that makes you wonder, just momentarily, if it's autobiographical; then you remind yourself that it couldn't matter less. His understated guitar is so real, so essentially human, that identity is a non-issue.
"The Mess Inside" tells us why we need our beauty, our deep-water fish -- it's so we can live through the worst times and remember why we love each other. "Absolute Lithops Effect" makes this point more directly. It's a monologue by a character who declares that he will soon become something to be proud of. "My insides are pink and raw / And it hurts me when I move my jaw / But I'm taking tiny steps forward and I / I feel / Sure that my wounds will heal / And I / I will bloom / Here, in my room / With a little bit of water, / And a little bit of sunlight, / And a little bit of tender / Mercy / Tender / Mercy."
The album's best song, naturally, has very little to do with this article's thesis -- but that little loophole lets me save the best for last. "The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton" could easily be twisted to serve the idea of All Hail West Texas as a search for beauty. It's the story of two kids who believe they're going to be rich and famous. Their dream is ripped away. The song's ending is too perfect to spoil -- suffice it to say that if you listen to the song, you're sure to spend the rest of your life desperately resisting the urge to scream "Hail Satan!" every time something good happens in your life.
Ultimately, my search for beauty thesis isn't strong enough to describe everything in All Hail West Texas; in fact, in simply sticking to my thesis statement, I left out a bunch of great songs. Darnielle is often referred to as the best songwriter of his generation (better, even, than Jeff Mangum) and that seems about right. He writes his fictions with such complexity and surefooted brilliance that each track sounds like something he experienced directly. He writes so well, so honestly, that I was hard pressed to find an approach that did his work justice. He is, and will remain, the definition of an essential musician. All Hail West Texas, for its beauty, for its richness, for its sheer intelligence, is one of his essential albums.
-- Mike Meginnis
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