When you told me you’d never heard The Mountain Goats before I was over the moon. Finally, I got to give someone the gift of listening to the best religious folk punk band from Durham, North Carolina for the first time. And how do you repay me? By telling me you found John Darnielle’s voice “grating”. Well listen buddy, maybe John Darnielle doesn’t like your sniveling, whiny fucking voice either.
I started you with the early stuff because I thought you could handle it, but I guess not. You know what, I’m going to record everything you have to say about “All Hail West Texas” on a Panasonic RX-FT500 and send the tape to John and see what he says. See how you like someone ripping your dumbass voice to shreds.
I truly don’t give a shit if you “like the lyrics” but “just can’t get past the voice.” I can’t stand any of the things you say or the way you say them. Both suck. At least when John Darnielle gets nasally he’s singing about cool shit like divorce and vampires. All you ever talk about is your dumb opinions and your dumb family. I would listen to a thousand more songs about Golden Boy peanuts before I heard you say one more brain dead thing about how your kid is walking real good.
Also, your best work (your kid) couldn’t hold a candle to Darnielle’s worst (whichever album came out after I turned 23). His songs are timeless. Your kid would be lucky to make it to adulthood with a dad as dumb as you. You know what? Maybe you shouldn’t even have a kid. If you can’t appreciate “Tallahassee,” what’s to say you won’t leave your kid in a hot car? Give me your kid. I’m serious.
So yeah, look in a mirror before you go throwing stones. Your words matter. I mean, yours don’t. No one listens to you because no one can get past your whiny voice. I hope you die. Full stop.