Although THE MOUNTAIN GOATS' two previous official releases, "Tallahassee" and last year's extraordinary "We Shall All Be Healed" marked their frontman John Darnielle out as a truly gifted songwriter with a knack for typically quirky observations set to unlikely, but gripping musical frameworks, they barely prepared you for the intensely personal songs of his/ the band's trauma-riddled new album "The Sunset Tree."
The CD's sleevenotes alone soon make you aware of the subect matter you're about to encounter. Darnielle says "The Sunset Tree" was "made possible by my stepfather, Mike Noonan (1940 - 2004): may the peace which eluded you in life be yours now", before dedicating the album to "any young men and women anywhere who live with people who abuse them," and continuing to prsen them with "the following good news: you are going to make it out of there alive."
So it's important to face up to the fact that "The Sunset Tree" will not be an easy ride. Yes, admittedly Darnielle has touched on the darker nights of the soul with "We Shall All Be Healed" (which dwelt upon a time where he experienced seedy apartments, cheap substances and subsequently unscheduled hospital trips), but with "The Sunset Tree" he's wading into considerably deeper water and presenting us with a collection of songs about the house he grew up in. The cast list also features Darnielle's mother, sister, ex-girlfriend, old friends and enemies alike, but central to the plot is Darnielle's nighmare relationship with his stepfather and the abuse said stepfather would mete out on a regular basis.
Consequently, your reviewer would be stupid to pretend "The Sunset Tree" is a picnic to listen to. Tears seeped from his eyes on several occasions while assimilating and getting to know the album's best songs (of which there are many) and to any right-minded person, "The Sunset Tree" will be an album that moves the heart, mind and soul with its' difficult and involved lyricism. However, the intensely personal nature of the record is leavened admirably by Darnielle and co's ability to present typically bright and quirky melodies to couch these experiences in, and overall "The Sunset Tree" sounds every bit as rewarding as it does harrowing.
Painkiller-addled opener "You Or Your Memory" is typical of the album's content. The song's lyrics take in observations such as "Down there in the dark I could see the truth about me" and "Lord, if I make it through the night, I will mend my ways", but melodically, the track is a fascinating semi-acoustic set-piece that's perky enough to rival They Might Be Giants. It's a method that's confirmed as a success by the ensuing "Broom People" where Darnielle sings of writing down "reasons to freeze to death in my spiral-ly notebook" although the song's winning folky melodicism suggests Darnielle has just copped off with the town's prettiest girl rather than been brooding about doing himself in. It's quixotic, but never less than totally intriguing.
Admittedly, Darnielle does occasionally reference slightly more positive aspects of his youth, as on songs like the urgent, string-led "Dilaudid", where impossible lust'n'desire hold sway ("Do it with your mouth open and take your foot off the brake, for Christ's sake" hisses a heatseeking Darnielle) or the superficially daft "Song For Dennis Brown", where the Goats' again make like a moe evil They Might Be Giants. "And when the birds come home in spring time," gushes Darnielle, "we will fill them full of buckshot." Oh God, I didn't see that one coming!
But however good these tracks are, it's the songs inspired by Darnielle's late stepfather that remain the record's cornerstones and in all cases they are devastatingly good. "This Year", for instance, superficially flirts with sounding 'anthemic', but finds Darnielle about to confront his stepfather who'll be waitng to unleash a "cavalcade of anger and fear" when the young John arrives home in the family car. That's horrific enough, but the juxtaposition between the music's urgency and the song's chorus ("I'm going to make it through this year if it kills me") is truly jaw-dropping.
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It's an excellent song, but arguably usurped by - for this writer - perhaps the best two songs to enter the Mountain Goats' canon to date. The deceptively short and jaunty "Dance Music" barely conceals a horrifically graphic tale of domestic abuse ("I'm in the living room watching the Watergate hearings, while my stepfather yells at my mother/ launches a glass at her head and I dash upstairs to take cover, lean in close to my little record player on the floor: so this is what the volume knob's for....I listen to dance music, dance music") which requires repeating verbatim here, such is its' strength.
The bizarrely-titled "Hast Thou Considered The Tetrapod?", though, is arguably the album's finest moment. Delievered with Darnielle's vocals perhaps best described as 'charged', it's an expectant strum that builds via sympathetic playing and oozing organ to its' dreadful, inevitable conclusion. "I am young and good, it's a hot Southern California day/ if I wake you up there will be hell to pay" sings an impassioned Darnielle, before going on to admit "Then I'm awake, and I'm guarding my face/ I'm hoping you don't break my stereo because it's the one thing I can't live without." It's one of those occasions where merely empathising and putting your own responce into words just doesn't seem half enough. Whether it's cathartic for him or not, John Darnielle is a brave man to see songs such as these through.
Generously, he leaves a couple of oddly bittersweet and lovely songs in reserve for the end. "Love Love Love" references Kurt Cobain's final day amongst other observations and is a sweet thing of oddball wisdom, while the concluding "Pale Green Things" - rightly - suggests that out of pain and suffering, some good might finally come. Erik Friedlander's subtle cello plays stalwart support to Darnielle's acoustic and the album's final flourish is wistful, but tangibly positive and brings the promise of something better after a particularly dark day.
Indeed, while the subject matter and lyrical content of "The Sunset Tree" would seem to peg it as one of rock's most melancholic outings from the start, this album is by no means unremittingly bleak. It's not a wallow-fest along the lines of (admittedly brilliant ) records like Lou Reed's "Magic And Loss" or the Red House Painters' legendary second with the rollercoaster cover, and is all the stronger for it, no matter how much John Darnielle may have feared for his soul and sanity during the period of his life these songs dwell upon. That he made it through is something all discerning listeners should be grateful for, not least because "The Sunset Tree" is the third of a trio of consistently excellent albums bearing The Mountain Goats' quality-assured stamp.
It raises the artistic bar dangerously high for the next one, mind.
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