Yesterday, after the continued insistence of various different people I would not have in my mind otherwise associated with each other, I listened to Goat for the first time.
What was putting me off? My best understanding is that it must have been something in the band’s name–the only clue I’d been given–that made me believe their music would be dark and difficult to get into, the diametrically opposite genre to easy-listening, if you will (yeah, Steven Wilson is just sooo easy-listening!)
Further, it might have been my tainted inner workings, inevitably influenced by popular associations of poor caprids on the one hand with satans, plenty of blackness and a certain admiration of evil for roughly the same reason the dark side is generally considered to be cooler, and on the other with… I dunno, ridiculousness? Goats seem to be close to rivalling cats on the internet, only with twice the foolhardiness and much less than half the self-consciousness.
Anyway, turns out not only are Goat not dark or complex in that sense, their work is an absolute celebration of life and joy. No reverse psychology in this name, no irony, no references to darkness. Goat, plain and simple. Foolhardy, unconscious Goat.
I hope they play in Athens again soon.
PS: The more I listen to the climax, the more it reminds me of Festival by Sigur Rós. And that’s good. Very good. Must be a Nordic thing.