Last night I saw The Mountain Goats here in Madison. They were one of the few hold outs on my list of bands I absolutely NEEDED to see. It was everything I wanted it to be. There were big joyful sing-a-longs about abusive relationships that left you feeling like pain and hardship held seeds of joy.
There was clipped stage banter about how you are doing something very special and holy when you go over to your ex's house to fuck her.
There was Final Fantasy on stage for a bunch of the songs.
Afterwards there was a moment when a car was a foot away from me and I was convinced that the last thing I would ever do in this life was sing-a-long to a Mountain Goats concert and while it scared me to no end part of me was thinking about how that was about right. The grand romantic, fatalistic part of me that washed up on the shores of my teenage years and still likes to come around for a visit now and them. The majority of me is happy to have not gotten hit by a car, and all of me is happy to have seen the Mountain Goats.
1 comment:
great post.
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