This Year Almost Killed Me: The Hold Steady & The Mountain Goats, Live In Chicago

“It was song number three on John’s last CD:
‘I’m gonna make it through this year if it kills me.’
And it almost killed me.

And song number four on that first D4:
‘You want the scars, but you don’t want the war.’
Now that’s just hardcore.
These kids are clever to the core”

Craig Finn wrote those lyrics in Brooklyn in 2005, and used them as the bridge for a song called “Girls Like Status.” It ended up as only a b-side from the 2006 album Boys And Girls In America. It was also the very first song I heard by The Hold Steady.

The first stanza references the chorus of “This Year,” the 2005 folk-rock anthem by The Mountain Goats, interpolated with The Hold Steady’s 2004 debut album title Almost Killed Me. Now longtime residents of North Carolina, but previously from everywhere else in the country, The Mountain Goats are known for their verbose storytelling and emotional vocal deliveries from singer and songwriter John Darnielle. The same could also be said for The Hold Steady, whose albums often feature throughlines of recurring characters. It’s not a surprise at all that fans of one could be fans of the other and that the two men are fans of each other.

D4 is the abbreviation for Minneapolis punk rockers Dillinger Four, longtime friends and fans of The Hold Steady and vice versa. Craig Finn takes some liberties with the original lyrics from their song “Portrait Of The Artist As A Fucking Asshole.” The exact lines read, “Do you love telling your war stories while hiding your scars?” But it wouldn’t be a Hold Steady song without at least one turn of phrase. Finn never actually says “Girls like status” in the song, but rather “Guys go for looks, girls go for status.”

I first discovered The Hold Steady and The Mountain Goats in middle school, and they gradually earned their places in my top ten bands of all time. Two brilliant, unique groups led by charismatic frontmen who have carved out their own indie rock sound separate from any other artist. I consider albums like Boys In Girls In America or The Mountain Goats’ 2002 divorce rock opera Tallahassee among my most important and loved records. Naturally, when it was announced they would be playing a few shows together, I knew I had to be there. I’m extremely lucky that two of those shows just happened to be in Chicago, where I’ve lived in or around my entire life. If all of that wasn’t exciting enough, Dillinger Four was asked to be the opening act for both nights.

The shows took place at The Salt Shed, a brand new, $50 million venue in Chicago’s near north side. It is quite literally a fully converted and remodeled version of the historic Morton Salt Shed, whose operations shut down in 2015. They officially opened for business last summer, but only hosted shows on the outside grounds stage next to the building itself. They finished the interior for a February 2023 opening and have had quite the roster of shows since, including Bush, Iggy Pop, and The Roots. The concrete hall inside can hold 3,500 showgoers between the standing room floor and the seated balconies. Not only that, but the outside grounds have food vendors all night long, and the building itself has a consignment shop (Umbrella Vintage) and a guitar gear dealer (Fret 12) attached to it that are both open during performances. It was in this former mineral warehouse that all three bands’ dedicated fanbases gathered to celebrate the combined decades of highly-loved music.

Dillinger Four (Mounts)

“On that first night…”

Dillinger Four kicked off the weekend at 8 pm on Friday night; the quartet crammed into stage left away from the other bands’ setup to make the post-set changeover as speedy as possible. They made use of their time and space quite well, burning through about 12 songs in their half-hour slot. I’d seen them once before, and I’m certainly not an expert on the catalog, but they sounded excellent on each track, busting out fan favorites like “Maximum Piss & Vinegar” and “Mosh For Jesus.” It was a perfect set to have sworn in the festivities, providing the first burst of energy needed for the rest of the show. Even Craig Finn was visible from the VIP balcony singing along to most of the set, just like a young diehard fan would.

Around 9 pm entered The Mountain Goats, easing into their first performance with “Liza Forever Minnelli,” a song that John Darnielle has noted as one of his favorites to perform live. Seeing him utilize it as the first tone-setter was nice, but something seemed to be a bit off. Whether he was having trouble hearing the rest of the band or figuring out which key the song was in for his guitar parts, it wasn’t totally clear where the disconnect was. Not the end of the world for being the opening moments of the set if he just needed a few extra moments to settle into the groove.

The Mountain Goats (Mounts)

From there, we heard tracks like “Incandescent Ruins” and the seven-minute epic “Hostages,” both from last year’s excellent Bleed Out. One thing was becoming clear with each selection that passed; this was a very atypical Mountain Goats show. Darnielle led the band through mostly slower, methodical tracks the entire time, rarely raising his voice to heights that fans are used to on more energetic cuts. After the already lengthy “Hostages,” they threw in “An Antidote For Strychnine,” which regularly breaches six minutes in the live setting. Even the widely regarded “Dance Music,” which clocks in at just under two minutes on 2005’s The Sunset Tree, was rearranged to a swing number twice the length of the original.

There were still exciting moments where the band rocked through a few of my absolute favorites songs; the finale of 2017’s Goths album “Abandoned Flesh,” the Scarface-referencing “The Diaz Brothers,” and the espionage-western “Waylon Jennings Live!” Darnielle and the Goats began their typical jazzy live intro to their most notable cut, “No Children,” leading the Shed in the nihilistic chorus: “I hope you die, I hope we both die.” It appeared they would follow it with the equally iconic “This Year,” but they were harshly called off stage for going over their time limit after only playing for 55 minutes. An unfortunately abrupt ending to a Mountain Goats performance, already a bit weighed down by the less-than-thrilling setlist.

The Hold Steady (Mounts)

If there’s one band that can restore all energy and power to a room, it’s The Hold Steady. They kicked off their night one show with “Constructive Summer,” one of their most-finger-pointable anthems from 2008’s Stay Positive. Craig Finn is a master at writing lasting mantras in his songs, “Constructive Summer” containing a handful, like “We’re gonna build something this summer” and “Raise a glass to Saint Joe Strummer, I think he might have been our only decent teacher.” It’s also another one of Finn’s songs where he references Dillinger Four, and the crowd shouted the lyric with all their might. “Me and my friends are like ‘Doublewhiskeycokenoice,’” the name of D4’s number one composition and penultimate song choice of their set.

I had assumed these shows would be co-headliners, with The Mountain Goats and The Hold Steady each playing roughly the same set length. Instead, The Hold Steady doubled the Goats exactly in the form of 25 songs that could have very well been a greatest hits set. And I don’t say that as a dig, it was unbelievable how many of their best tracks they played in succession. “The Swish,” “Sequestered In Memphis,” and “Chips Ahoy!” all made an appearance, and that’s just to name a few. It was also exciting to hear songs from 2021’s Open Door Policy and their brand new album The Price Of Progress, since the band hadn’t played Chicago since 2019’s Thrashing Thru The Passion was released.

It was a nonstop rock block the entire set, particularly the jaw-dropping marathon run of “Your Little Hoodrat Friend,” “Massive Nights,” “How A Resurrection Really Feels,” the encore of “Hornets! Hornets!,” “Stay Positive,” “Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night,” and their constant finale of “Killer Parties.” Whatever may have been left desired from The Mountain Goats’ set was remedied multiple times over during The Hold Steady, but at the end of the night, I was just excited to do it all again the next day.

“Then there’s the other part…”

Saturday night began about the same as Friday, with Dillinger Four’s opening set covering most of the same territory as the first time around. Just as fun and energetic, but if they did switch up the set at all, I didn’t notice. But The Mountain Goats left nothing up to chance, rearranging their setup slightly from the night before with drummer Jon Wurster more in the forefront. Not just visually, but musically as well on this night, helping the band charge through a much more intense show. They picked back up where they left off, opening with “This Year” right out of the gate, and it made the room explode. I’d seen them open with “No Children” once as well, and it was so special hearing each at the very start as opposed to the end. With almost no break, they kicked into “See America Right,” the lo-fi blues rocker from Tallahassee and a song that always sounds huge live.

Craig Finn & John Darnielle (Mounts)

They reprised “Hostages” and “Cadaver Sniffing Dog” from the night before, but other than those and “No Children” later on, there were no repeats. It was a night and day tonal shift, this set filled with fist-pumping folk-punk-rockers like “Heretic Pride” and “Up The Wolves.” This set also marked the first collaborative performance of the weekend, with Craig Finn joining the Goats to sing “Palmcorder Yajna,” easily one of the bands’ best hits. Finn delivered his vocals with as much gusto as ever, a clear expert of the track. They closed on another Darnielle-professed favorite, “Spent Gladiator 2,” where he sang most of the track from the barricade pit directly to the crowd. I’m still not sure if the two vastly different performances were intentional or not. As a longtime devotee, and one who has now officially seen The Mountain Goats more than any other band (14 times, brother), it is cool that I got to see the contrast. Maybe it would have been better for casual or even new fans if they spliced each night between fast and loud and slow and quiet, but I’m certain John Darnielle always knows what he’s doing.

If “Constructive Summer” is the second-best Hold Steady set opener, I know the best is “Stuck Between Stations.” But I’m biased, as it opens Boys And Girls In America, my favorite Hold Steady album. Another solid first batch of songs from the Minneapolis-turned-Brooklyn boys, including “Barfruit Blues,” “You Can Make Him Like You,” and “Stevie Nix.” As I expected, they made a few swaps from the newer material on Friday, only repeating “Sideways Skull” from The Price Of Progress. A crop of deep tracks this time around, too, including Mountain Goats saxophonist Matt Douglas joining the stage for “Banging Camp” and “Hostile, Mass.” The one-two punch of “Southtown Girls” and “Slapped Actress” before the encore break was a really special moment as well.

The guys go for looks” (Mounts)

I had only one huge dream for this weekend, one that could have been too obvious and avoided, but it felt necessary. I had heard The Hold Steady perform “Girls Like Status” only once before, at the end of their full album anniversary performance of Boys And Girls In America in 2016. But here they are, once again playing the song in Chicago, and the stars of the bridge lyrics are in the building and on the bill. So Craig Finn delivered the goods, ramping up to the bridge in the middle of the song talking about the specialness of these shows and all of the bands’ music. And what better way to cap off the weekend than having John Darnielle and Dillinger Four vocalist/bassist Patrick Costello sing their lifted lyrics themselves? Darnielle took the mic first, making the very clever adjustment of singing “Song number three on The Sunset Tree.” Then Costello sang verbatim to Finn’s original paraphrase, although ironically, D4 didn’t play “Portrait Of An Artist” in either of their weekend sets. It was an absolutely momentous, once-in-a-lifetime collaboration that perfectly encapsulated the love Finn has for both bands and the love the fans have for the entire roster.

It still wouldn’t be a Hold Steady show without the “Killer Parties” finale, and whereas Friday night I left before most of the guitar feedback and drum fills, Saturday night I stayed until the amps were cut and the house lights went up. I needed to. This year almost killed me. I needed to feel every last second before it was all officially over before I went back home, and I woke up at 6 am again Monday morning, went back to the warehouse, and let the corporate week burn me down again. “Work at the mill until you die, work at the mill, and then you die,” Finn exclaims in “Constructive Summer.” The Hold Steady is secretly great, working-class bar band music behind the sharp storytelling.

It was a crucial experience for me to be at these shows with friends, family, and fans alike. There’s a reason they call The Hold Steady fanbase The Unified Scene. The Mountain Goats have The Pagan Crew, unified perhaps more by bleak upbringings than last calls at local watering holes. If the Dillinger Four fanbase has a name, Craig Finn must be the fan club president, and I’m in for life now. I won’t forget this weekend. “I’m pretty sure we partied.”

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Logan Archer Mounts once almost got kicked out of Warped Tour for doing the Disturbed scream during a band’s acoustic set. He currently lives in Rolling Meadows, IL, but tells everyone he lives in Palatine.

I AM GOING TO TAKE THIS A LITTLE WHILE LONGER: 20 YEARS OF ALL HAIL WEST TEXAS

It is beautiful, sure, but a lot of it is empty. Empty in a way that feels heavy, like the big cities in Texas are just fronts to hide that most of it’s an empty state, with a population trying to be as loud as possible so no one will notice that all of them live tucked away in the east. All Hail West Texas, right? I mean, most of this could be said about America as a whole, but I’m not in America right now– I’m in Texas.

(Keisha, narrator of Alice Isn’t Dead)

I have never been to West Texas, or to anywhere in the American Southwest for that matter, but I’ve often entertained fantasies of escaping to some quiet, near-empty place in the desert. Mitski songs aside, Texas is not a landlocked state. But the vast flatlands seem as infinite as the stars above them, making it easy for one to fall for such geographic optical illusions. These are, as Darnielle described on an episode of I Only Listen To The Mountain Goats, “places where you’re alone with yourself.” In my fictional West Texas, my closest neighbors would be miles away, but my home would be open to a revolving door crew of lonely drifters and passers-through, not unlike the ones in Color In Your Cheeks:

They came in by the dozens, walking or crawling
Some were bright-eyed, some were dead on their feet
But they came from Zimbabwe or from Soviet Georgia
East St. Louis, or from Paris, or they lived across the street
But they came, and when they finally made it here
It was the least that we could do to make our welcome clear

It’s a fantasy defined by solitude, but in such a way that somehow– much like The Mountain Goats’ music –makes me feel less alone. Part of my love for All Hail West Texas lies in this contradiction and keeps me coming back to a central question: How can an album that evokes such emptiness and isolation simultaneously be a deeply powerful celebration of community and human connection?

Like all of my most beloved Mountain Goats albums, All Hail West Texas feels like a collection of overlapping short stories. As its indicatively minimalist album cover promises, it is “fourteen songs about seven people, two houses, a motorcycle, and a locked treatment facility for adolescent boys.” You won’t hear Darnielle giving a breakdown of these seven characters in interviews or definitively saying which songs each one of them is featured in. Some are mentioned by name: Jeff and Cyrus, the two members of the titular Best Ever Death Metal Band In Denton; William Stanaforth Donahue, a 17-year-old ex-running back who gets a federal prison sentence for selling acid after an injury ends his football career; Jenny, a recurring character in The Mountain Goats’ discography who’s seen tearing through the desert on a Kawasaki motorcycle. Other characters are left more ambiguous: somebody who drives two hours to Austin every week just to retrieve postcards from a former friend or lover; Jenny’s admirer whose infatuation prompts him to hop on the back of her motorcycle and ride off into the sunset; a hard-spending and even harder-drinking couple who refuse to part ways no matter how miserable they make each other (some have speculated that these two might be the Alpha Couple, the subjects of the following Mountain Goats album). Darnielle’s storytelling is non-linear, and the information he withholds is as crucial as what is revealed. Recognizable plot points are scattered across a sonic landscape that feels as wide and as empty as West Texas itself. 

As we celebrate its 20th anniversary, it feels necessary to highlight the timing of this album. It marks an important turning point in the band’s history as the last album of the fanbase-splitting “lo-fi era.” Production-wise, it was the swan song of Darnielle’s Panasonic RX-FT500 before the long-suffering machine broke down for good. Though most of my favorite Mountain Goats albums are from 2002 onward, my ears perked up upon hearing the return of that familiar tape hiss crackling through 2020’s Songs For Pierre Chuvin. 

It’s also worth noting that All Hail West Texas was the first Mountain Goats album released after 9/11. In some ways, it feels like an unintentional post-9/11 cousin to Lift To Experience’s 2001 cult classic The Texas-Jerusalem Crossroads– a sprawling post-rock concept album about the second coming of Christ set in Bush-era Texas. Darnielle’s values– religious, political, philosophical –are made clear throughout his discography, despite his general aversion to stating them overtly. Even though it lacks direct references to specific political stances or issues, All Hail West Texas is arguably the most political Mountain Goats album. The closest thing to a protest song Darnielle has ever written, “Fall of the Star High School Running Back,” tells the tale of a teenage victim of mandatory minimum sentencing. The narrator of “Pink and Blue” lacks adequate resources to care for their new child who’s been abandoned by a birth parent with even less. In the wake of 9/11 and subsequent racist and xenophobic backlash, “Color In Your Cheeks” takes on an additional layer of political significance. It’s a song about the true meaning of “southern hospitality”-- about sanctuary, about community, about opening homes and hearts to those seeking refuge and telling them “you are welcome here.” During its episode of the aforementioned podcast, Darnielle emphasized the importance of the song’s first-person plural perspective: “There’s no ‘me and you;’ it’s ‘us and y’all.’”

Like much of The Mountain Goats’ catalog, the songs on All Hail West Texas recognize that ‘home’ is a multifaceted, often tenuous thing. Pockets of refuge almost always stand on a precarious foundation. The safe havens provided in “Color In Your Cheeks” and “Pink and Blue” are makeshift ones, implied to be temporary. Teenagers Jeff and Cyrus find a home in their shared passion for death metal– a passion also shared by Darnielle himself –but are separated from their music and from each other by disapproving adults. In “Jeff Davis County Blues,” a man who’s just spent three nights in jail “dream[s] about home” while driving, but it’s unclear whether he even has a home to return to. “Riches and Wonders'' chronicles the slow death of a dysfunctional relationship punctuated by sporadic moments of genuine affection, summed up by a simple yet crushing line: “I wanna go home, but I am home.” It’s a fan favorite Darniellism, one that reads like the devastating flip side of Talking Heads’ loving declaration: “home is where I want to be, but I guess I’m already there.” 

If you were to make a Venn diagram of fans of the Mountain Goats and people with a complicated relationship to the concept of home, you might as well draw a circle. Though all of us have unique personal connections to the band, one of the constants among Mountain Goats fans is that each one of us has, in some way, found a home in their music, however fleeting that may be. 

The first time I saw The Mountain Goats live was almost four years ago, during my sophomore year of college. It had been a tumultuous spring semester, to say the least. I’d gotten caught up in my friends’ infighting and said things I regretted in an attempt to protect the reputation of someone who didn’t deserve my loyalty. I felt as though all my peers had found some sense of academic and professional direction that I couldn’t seem to attain. My childhood cat had recently been put down while I was away at school and unable to properly say goodbye. I was just starting to process traumas that I’d spent months, even years repressing, believing that if I pretended hard enough that these things hadn’t happened, it would eventually become the truth. 

For a couple of hours, a venue located inconspicuously in an Upstate New York strip mall became a sanctuary. With the second encore came a moment I’ll never forget. During a slowed-down rendition of Transcendental Youth’s penultimate track, “Spent Gladiator 2,” I locked eyes with John Darnielle from the back of the darkened concert hall as he sang the words, “just stay alive/stay forever alive.” His words have stayed with me ever since, their meaning evolving alongside my own growth. Sometimes it’s a command, sometimes a mantra. Sometimes a plea, sometimes a prayer. Whatever shape it takes, it’s a promise I’ve made to John and to myself. 

At its core, All Hail West Texas– and The Mountain Goats’ music as a whole –is about staying alive. John Darnielle’s characters are flawed, but what makes him such a compelling storyteller is that he doesn’t judge them for trying to survive. These are songs about doing the best you can with what you have. Darnielle isn’t here to show us the way out of whatever darkness is plaguing us, but he can remind us that a way out exists. 

“Absolute Lithops Effect” ends the album on a quietly hopeful note. It’s in good company with some of my other favorite album closers in which “night comes to Texas” (including one from The Mountain Goats’ 1997 album Full Force Galesburg). When Darnielle sings, “I’m going to find the exit,” it isn’t boastful or even declarative, but it’s life-affirming in its simplicity. He might not be able to offer us a sure solution, but he gives us what he can: “a little bit of water, and a little bit of sunlight, and a little bit of tender mercy.” Our narrator– alive but still hurting –describes the “tiny steps forward” that he is taking: “I will bloom, here in my room.” Later in the song, we see him emerging from said room and telling us: “I will go to the house of a friend I know/and I will let myself forget.” It’s something of a cyclical album– starting with two friends being torn apart from one another and ending with two friends reconnecting. In both songs, statements of perseverance cut through the characters’ suffering:

When you punish a person for dreaming his dream
Don’t expect him to thank or forgive you
The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Will in time both outpace and outlive you
Hail Satan!

Darnielle has called this song a hymn, which, understandably may confuse some due to the “Hail Satan” of it all. But it is, by definition, a song of praise, of giving oneself over to a higher power– in this case, the almighty power of death metal, self-expression, and adolescent rebellion. Through adversity there is victory, even when victory just means living another day. “Hail Satan” is more than just a silly reference to the boys’ transgressive rockstar personas (complete with pentagrams and edgy, already-taken band names). “It’s a celebration of two people being true to themselves,” Darnielle has explained, “It’s a celebration of the later Satanic principle of self-knowledge, which isn’t really Satan at all– it’s actually godlike.” By saying “Hail Satan,” what Jeff and Cyrus are really saying is “Hail Us.”

Last fall, I went to my second Mountain Goats concert and was lucky enough to hear this song live. It was a solo show, just John and his guitar and a room full of people singing along, our “Hail Satan!”s echoing off the high ceilings. I thanked whatever God I may or may not believe in that I’d taken John’s advice and stayed forever alive. I was not what I used to be. All Hail Satan, All Hail West Texas, All Hail Us. 

STAY WHEREVER THE HELL YOU ARE. TAKE THE TRAIN DOWN HERE IF YOU GET A CHANCE. DRIVE OUT TO THE AIRPORT. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME LEAVE. I LOVED YOU. I LOVE YOU. THERE ARE NO WINDOWS OR DOORS AND THE WALLS ARE ON FIRE. YOU CAN GET OUT IF YOU’RE COMMITTED TO THE EFFORT. IT’S EASY TO GET OUT IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. YOU HAVE REALLY LET YOURSELF GO. YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU USED TO BE. YOU ARE LOVELY BEYOND COMPARE, BEYOND COMPARE, BEYOND COMPARE. WE HAVE NO HOUSE. OUR HOUSE WOULD BE A LOVELY SOUTHWESTERN RANCH HOUSE. OUR HOUSE WOULD BE A LOVELY SOUTHWESTERN RANCH IF IT HAD A ROOF. OUR HOUSE IS A LOVELY SOUTHWESTERN RANCH. I’LL TAKE AS MUCH OF THIS AS I CAN POSSIBLY BEAR. I AM GOING TO TAKE THIS A LITTLE WHILE LONGER. I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE. 

(Excerpt from the liner notes of the 10th-anniversary reissue)

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Grace Robins-Somerville is a writer from Brooklyn, New York. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter @grace_roso.