When I think of goats and music, I have
visions of the once-great and now-gaunt Greek god Pan tooting his
flute while dancing through a forest glade. (Does the funk of Pan
still exist if no one is there to smell it?) Given the ancient ties
between frivolity, sexuality, and musicality wrought by the
devilish adventures of the cloven-hoofed one, is it surprising to
have a musical group (from Jacksonville, Ill.) that calls itself
the New Goat Ensemble?
Actually, a quick Internet search proves that
goats hold favored status in the music world, surpassing cattle,
chicken, sheep, and pigs as the most popular livestock to be
featured in band names. There are the Mountain Goats, the Holy
Goats, Goats Don’t Shave, the Escape Goats, Goats in Trees,
Goatskin, Goatsblood, Goatsnake, and one simply called the Goats.
Then there’s the Rolling Stones’ 1973 album Goat’s Head Soup —
and to top that off, every year Lewisburg, Tenn., hosts the Goats,
Music, and More Festival (Ronnie Milsap is the 2005 headliner).
Our central-Illinois goat boys claim no great
inspiration in their choice of the name New Goat Ensemble, just
that it sounded good and seemed to fit. They harbor no hidden pagan
agenda or desperate desire to please the Future Goat Lovers of America. They could have
named themselves the Bald Knobs or Sally the Sodbuster or the Merry
Milkmaids from Pisgah or the Dust Mite Devils — and would still
be a fantastic band. With classic-sounding original songs filled with
insightful lyrics, cool covers that would make Neil Young proud, and
fun stuff goat-made for crowd participation, the band floats in a
precious area between improvisation and preparedness that only great
groups inhabit.
The New Goat Ensemble was a fixture on the
Jacksonville scene through the 1990s and was quite popular in
Springfield until a few years ago, when the members of the group
decided to take a breather. The stories of the lead singer’s
alien abduction (the extraterrestrials quickly brought him back)
and the band’s banishment from the capital city by former
Mayor Karen Hasara as a result of unsolicited caprine-influenced
behavior performed with drunken audacity aren’t true and are
simply tales of goat lore. The only truth you need is this:
They’re baaaaaaaaa-ck.
This article appears in Apr 7-13, 2005.
