It's possible that the sound you purvey can be a rod for your own back. If Girls Aloud became horribly depressed, it would pretty much annihilate the live show. If Babyshambles became some slick, tight outfit, their fans would probably feel more betrayed than if they merely cancelled the shows. If Interpol started doing backflips onstage, well, it just wouldn't be gloomy, would it?
So when you embark upon a run of gigs involving bitter men spitting bile and telling us how awful the world can be at times, you just don't want them to be smiling do you? You want the live show of the songs you've taken as your own anthems of melancholy and disenchantment.
THE MOUNTAIN GOATS' John Darnielle has for years regaled his fans with alt-country/folk tales of woe with albums focussing on his divorce (Tallahasse), his abusive stepfather's death (The Sunset Tree) and good old fashioned loneliness (erm, Get Lonely). What emanates from the recordings is a powerful voice telling you moving tales, and managing to keep a fairly limited framework of ideas interesting. At all times he seems somewhat angry, or a least a little bit unhappy. Tonight, he seems thrilled to be with us.
The live set-up for the Mountain Goats is merely guitar and bass. A simple structure that does everything it needs to. The songs, mainly a selection from the last four albums, are performed perfectly. 'Southwood Plantation Road' gets the biggest cheer of the night. The performances are pretty faithful to the originals, with some element of vocal change here and there that only suggests that Darnielle's voice is getting better with age. A personal favourite was 'Dance Music,' a chirpy little number about domestic violence that tugs at your emotional side whilst you tap your feet. 'Love' Love, Love' is so peaceful and pretty that the audience can do nothing but whisper along, lest they spoil the mood.
But there is something unnerving about how happy The Mountain Goats appear between songs. Lots of banter and crowd interaction, joking and smiling. It's a good thing, really, but when you've been following the tales of a terrible life for a long time, it just seems a little wrong. When Darnielle embraces the crowd at the end of the set, you feel he should merely be grunting his appreciation and paying us little heed. A good set with many essential songs from their rich back catalogue being left out to prevent the set from running into several hours. But do you have to look like you're enjoying it so much?
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MALCOLM MIDDLETON, on the other hand, lives and breathes his dour, miserable personality. Banter with the audience usually ends in his contempt (which is all one can muster for heckles such as “Speak up, Malkie,” I'm sure). He tells the audience that his five day tour has been three dates too long at least, which is what you expect. You didn't really think that he wanted to be here, did you? His band are equally as disinterested, and this makes everything so much more believable.
The songs are performed well – the full band songs are louder and more energetic, the quieter ones are nicely stripped down. Unlikely Christmas number one 'We're All Going To Die' is spat out nicely. When he sings “I don't want to sing these shit songs any more,” (Break My Heart) you have to believe him. “Fuck It, I Love You” is a louder, livelier and yet more despondant. Everything about the performance matches the persona – and it's exactly what the audience want to see. Had he marched on stage in a santa hat and started thanking us for our support, well it just wouldn't have been what we wanted. There's no real showmanship, just some excellent renditions of some of his best songs.
Jenny Reeve is an excellent cohort in all of this – again, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else, she changes role within the band depending on where her talents are best suited (taking on violin, guitar and keyboard duties at carious junctures). She is the perfect accomplice to Middleton's deadpan weariness. The rest of the band also seem a little unhappy and this is despite the fact that they make an interesting group playing great songs to a satisfied crowd. The set was one encore too long (there was only one encore), but aside from that it was a suitably depressing night!
It is demeanour alone that makes the former Arab Strap man stand above The Mountain Goats over these two nights. Clearly, if you make your trade from making people miserable, you have a role to play, and that doesn't account for your happiness.
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