Finding ways to stay inventive as a musical artist can prove difficult after decades of releasing music. But for The Mountain Goats, a Californian indie band that has been releasing music since the early 1990s, this is hardly a challenge. While the band is most recognized for their indie folk sound from the early 2000s and raw lyricism from founding member John Darnielle, they haven’t been afraid to lean into more orchestral flourishes and fictional narratives in their music since then.
The Mountain Goats continue on that trend with their 23rd studio album, titled “Through This Fire Across from Peter Balkan,” released on Friday, Nov. 7. Instead of a cathartic confessional work, the band has described this album as a “musical” that follows the titular figure, Peter Balkan, and two other sailors left stranded after a shipwreck.
The album begins wordlessly with “Overture,” a triumphant instrumental piece. Its structure is built around pianos and strings, a departure from the expected acoustic guitars and a trend the rest of the album follows. The band continues with “Fishing Boat,” a more detailed expository piece that lays out Balkan’s lifelong draw towards the sea. Many of the instrumental patterns from “Overture” reappear, now with more direction.
The third track, “Cold at Night,” comes across as a more grounded view of a sailor’s life, focusing more on its inherent tribulations. Darnielle sings along with playwright Lin-Manuel Miranda, who appears on multiple songs on the album, each delivering their lines in a frantic rush.
Considering the pessimistic subject matter and the repeated line: “And the next thing you learn / is how cold it can get at night,” the bright instrumentation can feel misleading. Towards the end, it seems like Darnielle’s intonation might reach the gritty temerity he’s known for as he gets louder, but the track ends before providing any meaningful payoff.
Generally, the moments where The Mountain Goats tie in more of their indie rock intensity and Darnielle’s strained yells have the most impact. Tracks like “Dawn of Revelation” lash the listener with jarring guitars, while “Armies of the Lord” sees Darnielle voice swelling with tension, showing the narrator’s desperation to get saved from their shipwrecked state by spiritual actors.
However, much of the album doesn’t exert this dramatic presentation, resorting to softly polished chamber pop flourishes, dull drumming patterns and reserved performances from Darnielle. Balkan, the narrator and the other surviving sailor’s struggles do not come off as matters of life or death.
Instead, the band focuses on the mental and spiritual toll in subtle ways. It’s an admirable and unexpected direction to take this kind of survival story, especially one that was made with musicals in mind. Their approach still finds success because of Darnielle’s songwriting but lacks the sonic punches that could truly elevate its emotional resonance.
As is expected with the band, Darnielle’s lyricism continues to be one of the main draws. “Rocks in My Pockets” might be the closest track to classic Mountain Goats on the record, with its acoustic guitar emphasis and Darnielle wearily singing about one of the sailors who commits suicide. He infuses the ballad with plenty of sentimental objects, all of which stop mattering in the end.
“Your Glow” is equally depressing, where the narrator consoles Balkan in his final moments. Darnielle opens by solemnly reflecting: “You lost your feeling for the waves / Before we ran aground / And you lost 13 men to the waves / We watched them all go down.” But even as the track progresses and Balkan eventually dies, the disconnect between Darnielle’s morbid poetry and the cheerier instruments, now with synth arpeggios spicing up the background, prevents the sadness of this moment from hitting as it should.
The penultimate track, “The Lady from Shanghai 2,” borrows imagery from “The Lady of Shanghai,” one of the first songs released by The Mountain Goats in 1992. It’s a neat tie-in that demonstrates the band’s commitment to interconnectivity. The finale, “Broken to Begin With,” ties up the narrative by delving into the futility oof Balkan’s initial sailing dreams, rehashing lines from earlier in the album in the process.
As a whole, “Through This Fire Across from Peter Balkan” is a well-written narrative with a refreshing approach to a shipwreck story. But there are some noticeable stumbles when it comes to the music execution that, when paired with the 50-minute runtime, can make parts of the listening experience a bit of a drag.
Score: 2.75/5