Just after taking the stage for the encore, John ran back off, saying, “I gotta go bring on my man Ben for this one” and returning with Death Cab for Cutie’s Ben Gibbard who sang harmony, which was a nice surprise. I had thought the stubbled guy in glasses standing in the doorway of the stage exit for most of the show looked a bit familiar…

As they played, I had to smile when Darnielle leaned away from the mic and into the audience, prompting us to shout, “there will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year!” My wife Kristi doesn’t remember or love many lyrics, but that’s one of the rare lines she was quoting to me last week as I played Mountain Goats non-stop in joyous anticipation of this show.

While I was most looking forward to hearing “This Year”, my favorite song of the night was “Hast Thou Considered the Tetrapod”, surprising to me as it hadn’t previously been a track I cared a great deal about.

John introduced the song saying, “This is a song about finding hope in the tiniest and simplest of things in the middle of the darkest of moments. The level of emotional intensity in his voice and the tympani mallets rumbling on the toms locked me in. When the show was over, I got back in my car and immediately dug through the glove box for my iPod and dialed the rating of this song from two stars up to five. Check it out:

Mountain Goats: “Hast Thou Considered the Tetrapod”

Opening for the Mountain Goats was Jeffrey Lewis and the Jitters (which I inaccurately remembered at first as “Jeff Jared and the Jiggles”). Steve thought Jeff sounded a lot like the guy from the Moldy Peaches and I agreed. There is some connection between the groups and their styles are similar, though Jeffrey was indeed quite unique and highly entertaining as well.

One of the most enjoyable elements of his band’s show was his integrated “lo-fi music videos” which were scanned in illustrations accompanying a couple of absurd storytelling songs. From our location, I wasn’t able to see the first but moved to see the second, which was brilliantly bizarre.”Creeping Brain” tells of a disembodied swamp-bred brain that begins eating things and growing smarter as it does, eventually hotwiring a car into town and consuming whole cities. After its initial wave of destruction, the now enormous brain calls a press conference and extends peace to the world and offers its wisdom to mankind.

The lively illustrations were accompanied by a descriptive verse and the hilariously recurring line “creeping brain, creeping brain!” As silly as it was, it was very catchy, well demonstrated by the fact that it keeps tumbling around in my mind as I drive. “Creeping brain, creeping brain!”

Between the shows, I asked Jeffrey if he had recorded “Creeping Brain” and he said they hadn’t in any released form. He said occasionally they put up a demo of it on their myspace page, so I’ll have to keep a lookout for it. The accompanying drawings make the song wonderfully fun. Here’s a video of his performance of the song before scanning in the drawings and upgrading to a projector, as he did at the show we attended:

Browsing Jeff’s site, I came upon some of his illustration work. I have to say his sense of humor is right up my alley: totally random. Check out some of Jeffrey’s weirdly funny “nonsensical drawings” (as he calls them): [1] [2] [3] [4]

Aaron’s second album, Black & Gold, is musically deep, involving a variety of musicians and instruments with incredibly textured songs.

Maybe it’s because its sporadic and cheery “tink-tink-tink” brings joy to my xylophile heart or it could be the ever-so-addicting “That Thing You Do!“-like rhythm pounded out in the background, but Black & Gold’s lead-off track, “What We Don’t Know”, is without question worth a repeated listen.

Aaron Schroeder: What We Don’t Know

You can get Black & Gold on iTunes or buy the album online from Aaron’s site. (As of this instant, he is selling the disc for next to nothing: $3.99!)

One second, David Berman’s poke-along baritone drawl is the most heartfelt you’ve ever heard. The next minute he’s borrowing Johnny Cash’s larynx, his lyrics boldly staring you in the face. Pretty soon his cynical side shows through. And then suddenly, he knocks you down in hilarity with a line like this one:

“Punk Rock died when the first kid said, “Punk’s not dead… Punk’s not… dead.”

“Tennessee” combines equal parts sincerity, cynicism, and bone dry deadpan wit with a voice that Johnny Cash’s family must be collecting royalties on.

“Marry me, leave Kentucky, and come to Tennessee,” sings Berman, “’cause you’re the only ‘ten’ I see.” To which his girlfriend, Cassie Marrett, sings back, “I’ve looked through offices and honkytonks for a man man enough to be Mr. ‘Mrs. Tennessee.’”

This track’s lyrics, its instrumentation, and, of course, Berman’s voice helped it quickly rise to the top of a recent roadtrip playlist of music on my iPod I hadn’t listened to much, but the song is so unique and interesting in its style, I just had to share it with you.

Yes, you. The person behind the keyboard on the other side of this screen.

Help me. I’m stuck in here.

Tap, tap.

Tap.

Silver Jews: Tennessee