Darnielle, John

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    An Introduction to the Mountain Goats

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    How do you start listening to a band with 22 albums? We’re here to help.The Mountain Goats just released their 22nd album. Wondering how to dig into a catalog this deep? We have a guide.Jackie Lee YoungDear listeners,When an artist you’re curious about but unfamiliar with has an extensive back catalog, it can be difficult to know where to start. Sometimes a trusted guide is needed. And when people learn I’m a fan of the Mountain Goats — the wildly prolific, verbose and cult-beloved group led by the singer-songwriter-novelist John Darnielle — I am sometimes called upon to be that guide. I’ve made multiple “introduction to the Mountain Goats” mixes and playlists for friends over the years, and today I’ve made one for you.The occasion is the band’s new album — its 22nd! — “Jenny From Thebes,” which is a kind of sequel to the great 2002 Mountain Goats album “All Hail West Texas.” “Jenny From Thebes” is a rich and rewarding listen, but for the uninitiated it would be a strange place to start. Which is why I am here to initiate you into the world of one of the greatest American songwriters currently working.Darnielle started the Mountain Goats in the early 1990s as a solo project; he would record most songs (often directly onto a Panasonic boombox) right after he’d written them, which gave early Mountain Goats albums a sense of rough-hewed urgency. Beginning with the 2002 release “Tallahassee” — a song cycle about a doomed married couple — he began making more polished studio recordings with other producers and filled the Goats out into a full band. The current lineup includes the longtime bassist Peter Hughes, the drummer and frequent “Best Show With Tom Scharpling” guest Jon Wurster and the multi-instrumentalist Matt Douglas.Darnielle’s writing strikes a difficult balance between weightiness and levity. Some of his songs are about incredibly heavy topics — abuse, addiction, spirituality — but there’s a wit, a precision and a humanity to his voice that makes his music cathartic rather than depressing. That sensibility has translated into a particularly fervent and still expanding base of fans, who do things like make elaborate podcasts called “I Only Listen to the Mountain Goats.”The Mountain Goats are something of an acquired taste: They’re earnest and wordy, and Darnielle’s vocals strike some people as too … well, goatlike*. There are people in my life who have given them a fair chance and decided they’re just not for them. Fine. But I also have several decades-long friendships in which a mutual love of the Mountain Goats is a major component. My dear pal Matt first introduced the band to me almost 20 years ago (!) when he played me “Going to Georgia” while we were driving aimlessly around the New Jersey suburbs, and the world seemed to stand still. All these years later, we’re still going to shows, trading rarities and debating the merits of each new release. They’re just that kind of band.Listen along on Spotify as you read.1. “Jenny”Some of the best Mountain Goats songs — like this one, from “All Hail West Texas” — seem like they’re trying to slow time and preserve an ecstatic moment as precisely as possible (“Our house faced west,” Darnielle specifies here, “so the big orange sun positioned at your back lit up your magnificent silhouette”). This song introduces the motorcyclist Jenny, for whom the Mountain Goats’ new album is named. (Listen on YouTube)2. “This Year”Perhaps the best-known Mountain Goats song (for good reason; it’s fantastic), “This Year” is also the most anthemic track from “The Sunset Tree,” the wrenching, straightforwardly autobiographical 2005 album on which Darnielle grappled with his relationship to his abusive stepfather, who had recently died. Though grounded in his own teenage experience, which he vividly reanimates here, the chorus features a rousing, universal survivor’s battle cry: “I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me.” (Listen on YouTube)3. “Cubs in Five”From one of the earliest Mountain Goats releases, the 1995 EP “Nine Black Poppies,” this passionately sung fan favorite lists a number of highly improbable events: “The Canterbury Tales” returning to the best-seller list, the narrator loving an old flame like he used to and, perhaps most improbably of all, the long-cursed Chicago Cubs winning the World Series. Twenty-one years after this song was released, they actually did it — though, contrary to Darnielle’s prophecy, it took the Cubs seven games. (Listen on YouTube)4. “Harlem Roulette”One of the finest Mountain Goats songs in the last decade or so, this full-band standout from the 2012 album “Transcendental Youth” is an impressionistic snapshot of the last day in the life of Frankie Lymon, the precocious soprano who sang “Why Do Fools Fall in Love” and died of a heroin overdose at age 25. The hook to this song is at once simple and devastating: “The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you’re never going to see again.” (Listen on YouTube)5. “Damn These Vampires”If the rough edges of the early Mountain Goats recordings aren’t to your liking, try this gentler and more polished piano-driven song, from the 2011 album “All Eternals Deck.” The beautiful chorus melody in particular shows the gradual refinement of Darnielle’s songwriting. (Listen on YouTube)6. “Golden Boy”And now, the sillier — and yet, somehow, more spiritual — side of the Mountain Goats: an ode to a specific brand of Singaporean peanuts that Darnielle hopes to enjoy in the afterlife. “There are no pan-Asian supermarkets down in hell,” he sings on this recording from the 2002 compilation “Ghana,” “so you can’t buy Golden Boy peanuts there.” Troublingly, in a 2020 performance of this song released as a part of the “Jordan Lake Sessions” series, Darnielle noted, “I’d just like to point out, that for God knows how long, we have in fact been living in a world in which the company that once made these peanuts no longer makes them. You do the math.” (Listen on YouTube)7. “No Children”A (very) darkly funny song that became an incredibly unlikely TikTok sensation in 2021 (I have read the explainers and I still don’t fully understand why), “No Children” is the centerpiece of the Mountain Goats’ 2002 album “Tallahassee.” This song has also been a longtime staple in live Mountain Goats sets, perhaps because of how fun it is to scream, “I hope you die! I hope we both die!” in a crowded room at the top of one’s lungs. (Listen on YouTube)8. “Choked Out”Many of the Mountain Goats’ recent LPs have been concept albums, digging into some of Darnielle’s enthusiasms like vintage action films (last year’s “Bleed Out”), the role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons (“In the League of Dragons,” from 2019) and, on the inspired 2015 release “Beat the Champ,” professional wrestling. The frenzied rocker “Choked Out” is a highlight from that one. (Listen on YouTube)9. “Woke Up New”On this single from the devastating 2006 album “Get Lonely,” Darnielle paints almost too vivid a picture of the first day after a breakup, when a lover has moved out and their absence makes the familiar suddenly strange: “The first time I made coffee for just myself, I made too much of it/But I drank it all just ’cause you hated when I let things go to waste.” (Listen on YouTube)10. “Up the Wolves”Quite possibly my personal favorite Mountain Goats song ever — though don’t actually make me choose! — here’s another galvanic standout from “The Sunset Tree.” (Listen on YouTube)11. “Going to Georgia”Though it’s one of the Mountain Goats’ most beloved early songs (and the first one I ever heard), Darnielle mostly stopped playing this song live around 2012, because he worried that it romanticized gun violence and toxic relationships. (He once added when discussing the matter onstage, “I’m not ashamed of the song, the song has a vibe, I can’t deny it, and I listen to Cannibal Corpse, you know.”) Regardless, it’s an important entry in the Mountain Goats’ catalog, and the recorded version from the 1994 album “Zopilote Machine” contains some of Darnielle’s most urgent and impassioned bleating. (Listen on YouTube)12. “Against Pollution”Released in 2004, “We Shall All Be Healed,” one of the first Mountain Goats albums recorded with a full band, is a powerful collection of songs inspired by Darnielle’s and his friends’ adolescent struggles with drug addiction. Though some listeners were put off by the cleaner production sound when it first came out, I’ve come to appreciate it as one of the band’s best and most unappreciated albums. There’s a quiet power to this penultimate track, which toggles between the banal and the monumental, the sacred and the profane. (Listen on YouTube)13. “The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton”A parable about the importance of keeping youthful dreams alive, told through the bittersweet story of West Texas metal-heads Jeff and Cyrus, this lo-fi gem is another of the best-loved Mountain Goats songs — and the reason you’re likely to hear people yelling “Hail Satan!” at their live shows. Listen and you’ll understand. (Listen on YouTube)Forty miles from Atlanta, this is nowhere,Lindsay* The band’s name is not actually a reference to Darnielle’s singing style, but rather to the Screamin’ Jay Hawkins song “Yellow Coat.”The Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“An Introduction to the Mountain Goats” track listTrack 1: “Jenny”Track 2: “This Year”Track 3: “Cubs in Five”Track 4: “Harlem Roulette”Track 5: “Damn These Vampires”Track 6: “Golden Boy”Track 7: “No Children”Track 8: “Choked Out”Track 9: “Woke Up New”Track 10: “Up the Wolves”Track 11: “Going to Georgia”Track 12: “Against Pollution”Track 13: “The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton”Bonus TracksEarlier this week, Sam Sodomsky of Pitchfork published a great Q. and A. with Darnielle that dug into his process. “When I talk I get more and more animated, and my brain kind of boils,” Darnielle said at one point. “I can sustain that boil for a long time — but it also makes you do things like leave bags on subways.”Also, back in my own Pitchfork days, I spoke with Darnielle for a new interview format we were trying out, where we asked musicians what songs they would listen to in certain life situations. Let’s just say that Darnielle came prepared. With a lot of Danzig. More

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      10 (or, Actually, 11) Songs That Explain Me

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      Introducing a new newsletter dedicated to music discovery, and your host, Lindsay Zoladz.Illustration by The New York Times; Bob Berg/Getty Images (Fiona Apple)Dear listeners,Welcome to the first installment of The Amplifier — a twice-weekly note about songs (new and old) worth hearing. I want The Amplifier to bring that mixtape-from-your-friend feeling back to musical discovery. Too often, in the streaming era, our choices are at the mercy of a shadowy, impersonal algorithm. The Amplifier will be a return to something more intimate and human.Of course, that requires you knowing at least a little bit about me and my particular musical perspective.But the easiest way to fill a music critic with crippling panic is to pose that seemingly simple question: “What’s your favorite song?” Most of us are likely to get defensive and philosophical, asking whether you mean “favorite” or “best,” and how you personally would define those terms — all as a stalling tactic while we spin through the bulging Rolodex of all the songs we’ve ever loved, trying and probably failing to arrive at a sufficiently revealing choice.So rather than make a monolithic list of My Favorite Songs of All Time — one that I’d immediately be adding tracks to in my head as soon as I hit send — I thought I’d opt for the more inviting language of a popular social media prompt: “10 Songs That Explain Me.”Except that I just. Could. Not. Do it. No matter how many times I tried, I always ended up with an extra song. So consider this to be a 10-song playlist with a bonus track — or perhaps an early indication that the knobs on this Amplifier go to 11.Listen along here on Spotify as you read.1. Nina Simone: “Ain’t Got No — I Got Life”Only Nina Simone could transform two relatively kitschy numbers from the musical “Hair” into a song of self that rivals Walt Whitman. Simone is a lodestar to me: The excellence that she demanded from herself, the attention she demanded from her audiences and the classical virtuosity she brought to popular music all make her one of the greats. This rousing song can lift me out of just about any funk, and with such efficiency! Simone only needs less than three minutes to remind you exactly what it means to be alive. (Listen on YouTube)2. Fiona Apple: “Shameika”I grew up in suburban New Jersey and came of age in the late ’90s: a place and a time when conformity was currency. I wasn’t very good at fitting in, and like many an angsty youth, I found a kindred spirit in Fiona Apple. I first heard (and became obsessed with) her poetic and moody debut album, “Tidal,” when I was on the precipice of middle school, which is about the age Apple imagines herself to be in this elegantly unruly song from her 2020 album “Fetch the Bolt Cutters.” I see a lot of myself in it — both in the young, dissatisfied girl Apple remembers herself to be, and in the adult writer who made it out of that environment intact enough to tell the story. In my headphones, at least, Fiona said I had potential. (Listen on YouTube)3. The Dismemberment Plan: “Superpowers”When I was 18, I moved to Washington, D.C., for college and lived there until I was 25. My friend Drew put this song on a mix for me a few years into that stretch, and for a time it became my anthem: The Dismemberment Plan — an arty, verbose four-piece from D.C. that had broken up shortly before I got there — was a perfect bridge between the introspective emo I liked in high school and the more experimental strains of indie-rock I got into in college. Nothing brings me back to the ennui of early adulthood like the band’s 1999 classic “Emergency & I,” but my favorite of its records is the one that has “Superpowers” on it, “Change.” Luckily I got to catch a couple of amazing D-Plan reunion shows before I left town. (Listen on YouTube)4. Grimes: “Genesis”I have this theory that moving to New York knocks at least five years off your behavioral age. I made it here at 25, but for the first few years it felt like a second adolescence: catching shows every night at a bunch of now-defunct Williamsburg venues, making new friends, vying for the car stereo’s aux cord. Very often, the iPod was playing Grimes’s light and blissful album “Visions,” or sometimes just “Genesis” on repeat. It’s a song that can still make me feel, for a fleeting four minutes, like I’m the main character in my own video game and I’ve figured out the cheat code that makes me invincible. (Listen on YouTube)5. Frank Ocean: “Self Control”And here is the B-side of my roaring 20s: Frank Ocean’s tender voice was and remains a balm for whatever failure, loneliness and disappointment life decided to throw my way. (Consider “Self Control” a way to sneak another one of my favorite artists, and homes-away-from-home, onto this list, too, since the eclectic Philadelphia indie-rocker Alex G plays guitar on the track.) (Listen on YouTube)6. The Flying Burrito Brothers: “Wild Horses”Let’s continue wallowing while turning back the clock a bit to hear from another one of my all-time favorite singers, Gram Parsons. (I recently went on a Nashville vacation that was at least partially a spiritual pilgrimage to see his infamously sinful Nudie suit in the Country Music Hall of Fame.) A lot of the older music I love most has a kind of “near miss” quality about it — history’s beautiful losers, the artists who didn’t break through but deserved to, the ones who gesture toward all sorts of alternative presents and what-ifs. Maybe that’s why I prefer Parsons’s vocal take of “Wild Horses” to Mick Jagger’s more familiar one. (The Sundays’ version is great, too.) There’s a wobbly brokenness to it that I find incredibly moving, especially the way he emphasizes “a dull aching pain.” The origins of the song are notoriously disputed, but some insist that its titular line was inspired by something that Marianne Faithfull croaked when she came out of a six-day coma in 1969 — “wild horses couldn’t drag me away” — and that is one of those rock ’n’ roll stories that, even if it’s apocryphal, I have chosen to believe. (Listen on YouTube)7. Big Star: “Daisy Glaze”Speaking of music history’s beautiful losers: Big Star, one of my favorite rock bands ever. Like many a teenage millennial, I first came to the band through one of the numerous covers of the acoustic ballad “Thirteen” (“one of my almost-good songs,” the ever-humble Alex Chilton once said). Once I’d immersed myself in the band’s back catalog, I became belatedly furious that it had never been as famous as Led Zeppelin. I will always be exhilarated by the moment in the middle of “Daisy Glaze” when Jody Stephens’s three kick-drum thumps initiate a sudden tempo change — a perfect encapsulation of the band’s thrilling brilliance. (Listen on YouTube)8. The Mountain Goats: “Up the Wolves”I got into the Mountain Goats toward the end of high school — my friend Matt and I would drive from Jersey diner to diner, listening to their seemingly limitless discography — and John Darnielle is probably my favorite contemporary lyricist. The album “The Sunset Tree,” and this song in particular, have gotten me through many a dark night of the soul. I have now seen the Mountain Goats live more times than I can count — I lost track in the low 20s — and I am not yet numb to the emotional power of these songs. They played “Up the Wolves” a few months ago at Webster Hall, and after all these years, it still made me cry like a big teenage baby. (Listen on YouTube)9. Buffy Sainte-Marie: “The Circle Game”This one’s a total cheat: a sneaky way to mention two artists I adore — Buffy Sainte-Marie and Joni Mitchell, who of course wrote “The Circle Game” — on a single track. Joni is probably my favorite living songwriter, and there are about 100 other songs of hers I could have chosen. But I like the story behind this cover, recorded when Joni was still a fledgling songwriter to whom the then-better-known Buffy was trying to bring some attention. Suffice to say, it worked. (Listen on YouTube)10. The Raincoats: “No Side to Fall In”I’ve identified as a feminist throughout many different cultural and personal phases: in seventh grade when the boys told me girls couldn’t skateboard; in college, when it was a somewhat unfashionable concern that meant I read a lot of literary theory; these days, when a more watered-down version of the word has been co-opted to sell things on Instagram. All throughout, music has given me the strength to keep fighting, dreaming and resisting psychic death. To me, the great post-punk group the Raincoats are emblematic of a kind of utopian feminist freedom: a sonic universe where women can sound like and do anything they want — yes, even skateboarding. (Listen on YouTube)11. Van Morrison: “Ballerina”Oh, Van the (Facebook-hating) Man, my problematic fave. “Astral Weeks” is an album I love deeply, but I’ve always thought “Ballerina” should be the closing track. Since this is my playlist, with my rules, let’s try it out. I love this clip of a very young Leonard Cohen explaining to a confused interviewer on Canadian television what it feels like to be in “a state of grace.” It’s that “kind of balance with which you ride the chaos that you find around you.” I have found no better description of how I feel when I listen to this song. (Listen on YouTube)Thanks for listening,LindsayThe Amplifier PlaylistListen on Spotify. We update this playlist with each new newsletter.“10 (or, Actually, 11) Songs That Explain Me” track listTrack 1: Nina Simone, “Ain’t Got No — I Got Life”Track 2: Fiona Apple, “Shameika”Track 3: The Dismemberment Plan, “Superpowers”Track 4: Grimes, “Genesis”Track 5: Frank Ocean, “Self Control”Track 6: The Flying Burrito Brothers, “Wild Horses”Track 7: Big Star, “Daisy Glaze”Track 8: The Mountain Goats, “Up the Wolves”Track 9: Buffy Sainte-Marie, “The Circle Game”Track 10: The Raincoats, “No Side to Fall In”Track 11: Van Morrison, “Ballerina”The song that explains youI’m really excited to go on this musical journey with you. I also want to make this newsletter a place for conversations about the songs and artists that mean something to you, so I’ll occasionally be asking for your thoughts on the topics we cover in this newsletter — and I’d love to hear from all of you.Today, I want to know: What’s a song that explains you? Tell me about it.If you’d like to participate you can fill out this form here. We may use your response in an upcoming edition of The Amplifier.Bonus tracksIf you want to read me going even deeper on my love of Fiona Apple, here’s an essay I wrote a few years back, as part of NPR’s “Turning the Tables” series on female artists. (My dear friend Jenn Pelly also tracked down the real-life Shameika and wrote a wonderful article about her.)And, if you’re a Van Fan, here’s me going incredibly long on “Astral Weeks,” for The Ringer, on the occasion of the album’s 50th anniversary.Finally, if you’re inclined to read my recent profile of the great Buffy Sainte-Marie (I was pinching myself just outside the Zoom frame!), might I suggest following it with this delightful clip of her showing Pete Seeger, on his short-lived TV show “Rainbow Quest,” how to play a mouth bow. More

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      Jack Antonoff Doesn’t Want to Just Take Up Space

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      As he prepares to release his third album with Bleachers, the musician and producer explores how his cultural must-haves intersect with his creative impulses.To the outside observer, Jack Antonoff might seem like something of a workaholic.A widely trusted collaborator whose fingerprints are all over contemporary pop, Antonoff has already worked on a number of this year’s notable releases by Lana Del Rey, Clairo and Lorde. “Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night,” the third studio album from Antonoff’s band Bleachers, is due July 30, lest anyone forget he also makes music of his own.But the portrait of Jack Antonoff, ubiquitous workhorse, isn’t familiar to Antonoff himself. “I don’t see myself doing anything different than any of the people I know,” he said. “I’ve actually put an amazing importance the past couple years on my own time and my family. And I’ve realized that sitting in the studio all night is kind of a hoax. You might be better off going to dinner with your friends.”Antonoff, 37, has been splitting his time between New York and his home state of New Jersey. Both places are woven into “Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night,” an album Antonoff wrote around the idea of falling in love and taking a new partner back home, “as a metaphor for showing them your truest self.” In promoting the record, Antonoff has made this passage extremely literal, performing his new songs while crossing state lines on a moving bus; while perched inside the Holland Tunnel; and, in the case of the single “Chinatown,” while in a car with one of his influences, Bruce Springsteen (who also lends vocals to the track).Calling from his Brooklyn apartment, Antonoff shared 10 of his much-loved cultural items — and tried to keep it honest. “When people make these lists, it always seems like they’re punching one notch above what they actually feel,” he noted. “I just jotted down a bunch of things I really like.” These are edited excerpts from the conversation.1. “Martha” by Tom WaitsI’ve never heard more longing in a song. There are plenty of songs about love and regret, and there are plenty of sad chords. And then every once in a while, you hear something that is so much bigger than the sum of its parts. In high school, I had this girlfriend, and she would put on “Foreign Affairs” and we would make out. This song isn’t on that album, but I fell in love with his voice and when that relationship ended, I took Tom Waits with me.2. John F. Kennedy MemorabiliaI have a lot of it around my house. Growing up, we had this J.F.K. bust; I don’t know where my dad got it. Then I started collecting J.F.K. busts, and all these great J.F.K. speech compilation LPs. There’s just such a heavy cultural context that comes along with it that makes you think of so many hopeful, tragic, bizarre elements of what it is to be an American. He’s become a really interesting symbol to me, in his complication.3. “The Ben Stiller Show”It was a sketch show on MTV with Ben Stiller, Andy Dick, Bob Odenkirk and Janeane Garofalo that was so incredibly far ahead of its time. I see it as kind of the architecture for a lot of more bizarre comedy that has gotten really popular in the past 10 years. And it just isn’t culturally recognized in the way that you can throw it into a conversation the same way you can “Kids in the Hall” or Upright Citizens Brigade or even “The State” — those things people have a context for.4. Martín RamírezHe was part of a field of outsider artists. There’s a great book called “American Self-Taught” that highlights a lot of this stuff: Henry Darger, Bill Traylor, William Hawkins. All these artists mean a great deal to me, because there’s something really incredible about seeing work that nobody asked anyone to make. It just comes from the desire to make it. Martín Ramírez had some real mental health issues; I don’t have much in common with him or his story, but when I look at his work, it really feels like the inside of his brain.5. Magic: The GatheringA couple of years ago, my manager and I were walking by this comic shop. When I was growing up, everyone bought Magic cards — it was a big deal, at least in my corner of Jewish New Jersey. We went in and started talking to this guy behind the counter, who was talking about Magic in this really beautiful way. So we bought some cards and started playing and got obsessed with it. There’s such an art of putting together your deck. It’s a crazy meditation on your life: You make these choices, and you put all these theories and road maps into it, but then you shuffle your deck and hope one of them will pan out. It’s just a beautiful game that requires so much of your intellect and soul. And I’ve only scratched the surface. But it’s fun to be a part of something that you could never get to the end of. That’s a bit how I feel about music: The goal is not to master this thing, the goal is to be a part of it.6. Afghan HoundsI’m enamored with them. I’ve never had one, and I’ve only met a few. But there’s a version of my life where I just need to be around one. This one is a little bit more of a free association: I thought I’d throw something in that’s entirely unexamined and coming from some deep place. I just fantasize about Afghan Hounds being around.7. @NJGov on TwitterThere’s this whole culture of brands having a snarky Twitter, and sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s kind of cooked, but this is just right on. If I go on social media and look around, that doesn’t necessarily feel like a cozy place to me, but when I see New Jersey government tweets, I feel a joy and a calmness. It’s just a job well done — that’s not as common as we act like it is. It’s so infectious when someone’s just killing it. Such a part of making records is sort of like, “Why are we doing this? We should only do this if we’re all in, not just to take up space.” The New Jersey government Twitter does not take up space.8. Sam DewHe’s an artist, someone I collaborate with a lot, a friend. He might have the best voice in the world. Every once in a while, you’re in the presence of someone who was just dropped on this earth with an ability that nobody else has. That’s not even something that I usually gravitate toward; sometimes I’m more interested in all the messy things that people can put together that make something very beautiful in the end. But if you can ever be in a room and watch him sing, it’s a life-changing experience.9. Not SpeakingHere’s how I feel about not speaking: I forget to think sometimes, and everything good in my life has come from thinking. The concept of being alone can’t be a catchall for thinking. Everyone’s like, “Spend time alone, get to know yourself,” and, like, what the [expletive] does that mean? Just because you’re alone, it doesn’t mean you’re thinking. I love being in public or around people I know and not speaking, because if you can crest past that feeling of needing to be entertaining or keep some sort of vibe going, you do real thinking when you’re around people but not speaking. Probably part of why I love the city is the ability to be around people and not speak.10. John Darnielle’s LyricsHe’s our Dylan. It’s amazing when you hear a beautiful [Mountain Goats] song about loss or love, and it makes you think of the person that you lost or loved. That’s magical. But every once in a while, you’ll hear something that pulls at a part of you that you don’t even know where it is, you just know it’s there because it’s being pulled. That’s the highest form of this work, when you’re connecting in a way that is truly beyond words, beyond anecdotes, beyond “this song makes me think of this summer with this person.” It’s just on a whole other plane. More