It is not difficult to infer why Darnielle might insist on others to join his party. The Goats’ music has always revolved around his hyper-enunciated, oh-so-fragile vocals, which juxtapose against the dark themes tainting the lyrics — isolation, sex, drugs and emotional disruption scattered throughout. It’s fine to write about your demons, but there are only so many post-ironic meth follies you can document in a folk record.
But sometimes Darnielle’s voice itself, which recalls a nasal spin on the clarity of The Decemberists’ Colin Meloy, is the weakest link. “Heretic Pride” tracks such as “San Bernardino” shine with offbeat orchestration and unique polyrhythms, yet his vocals are too jittery to fit comfortably into the scheme. His oddly-paced delivery was better suited to the Goats’ stark early work, and on a record with such sonic depth, Darnielle’s consistent pitchiness is very distracting.
Besides an uneven setup, Darnielle’s songwriting lacks the focus he strongly exhibited on earlier discs. To a cynic, it might sound as if the group’s lack of exposure has inspired the frontman to mine the songbooks of other more successful indie acts in order to hit it big. The title track bites not only vocals in the style of The Decemberists, but also their march-paced acoustic numbers. “Lovecraft in Brooklyn” copies Ted Leo in lyrics and pace, and “Tianchi Lake” will doubtlessly sound familiar to fans of Iron & Wine.
It is clear that The Mountain Goats have potential, as seen on better, simpler discs such as 2002’s “Tallahassee.” The key to their success? Allowing Darnielle to sing with a subtle backing band, focusing the spotlight on his troubled vocals. But when a group is going through so many identity crises simultaneously, it is difficult to create a base sound. The best bet for the boys would be to go back to the drawing board and reassess what they think their strengths are, and from there, determine where they would like to, and need to, go.