March 20 2008: The Mountain Goats, the Moaners - First Unitarian Church Basement, Philadelphia PA

Caitlin and I, after taking the New York Mountain Goats shows off for reasons of schedule but not feeling too bad about it due to an unshakable feeling that they just might be huge rooms of kids unapologetically singing along, hit the road and pointed ourselves in the direction of Philadelphia. A town where I've never seen a bad Mountain Goats show, and where they're generally pretty fucking top notch. And I'd never before spent a night in Philadelphia that didn't involve seeing a Mountain Goats concert, so getting there a day early was fun. We stayed at Caitlin's friend Julie's place, who lives a mile or so south of downtown, where I'd never spent any time, and enjoyed ourselves pretty well at the Royal Tavern a block down.

The next day, day of the show, we showed up at the church at seven, cause our tickets said the show was at eight and we made an assumption regarding door time. Our assumption, however reasonable, was not as reasonable as it could have been. It was windy and really really cold and we stood there, nine-tenths sober, until 815. At which point we walked in. As yet another assumption regarding the show was revealed for the mere assumption that it was: instead of the show happening in the really pretty main hall, the one with pews and stained-glass and chandeliers that's advertised on the church's website, we followed a snake of people into the basement. Where there was a stage set up, and punk-ass kids surrounding it, and big ominous-looking speakers pointed right at us. I totally thought this was going to be a nice sit-down MFA-style gig. I was wrong. Caitlin and I glanced at each other. She worried the kids were only going to get more punk-assier. I turned to Maker's. We were seriously worried there, and the huge crowd growing denser around us every minute didn't help.

However! Show starts and no one pushes us around, and no one starts a mosh pit, and John walks to the microphone and says, "Hi. We're the Mountain Goats." And then he plays "Abide With Me." No Peter, No Wurster. No stupid Led Zeppelin intro music. Just John playing old songs. Songs mostly too old for people to sing along with, half of which I'd never heard before. "Abide With Me" went into "Blueberry Frost," into "Going to Reykjavik," into "Jeff Davis County Blues" (maybe better than the MFA? maybe? goddamn was it nice), into "Blues in Dallas," into "Duke Ellington," into "Song for Dennis Brown," into "Have to Explode." It was a great eight songs. It felt like old times. Hell of a way to start a set.

And then Peter and Wurster came out and they closed with five full-band tunes, finishing the set with "Sept 15, 1983" and "Lovecraft in Brooklyn," which was relatively mellow, vocals wise. I was digging it though. And the encore was a low-key "Babylon Burning," which I wasn't expecting at all and was lots of fun, into "Dance Music," kind of the way they played it in the fall, but slower. Way slower.

The people screamed for a second encore, but they didn't get one. And then we got into a cab, it drove slowly and evenly back to Julie's, and I dreamt about home.