A lot of the real appeal of "lost" albums is the fact that they're "lost" and may very well remain that way. At first, the excitement is palpable when pieces or the whole treasure chest, so to speak, is "found." Then, inevitably, disappointment sets in. What the fuck was anyone even excited about? Some art is lost for a goddamn good reason.
This thread inspired me to finally seek out
Hail and Farewell, Gothenburg, despite my better judgment, despite the realization that some mysteries should remain buried, despite that, were I an artist and had written something not intended for public consumption, I would be more than a little outraged at its sudden availability.
I stared idly at the title in my iTunes playlist for a few hours, engaged in a battle royale between what I thought was right and the sadistic joy of reaching for the once unreachable. My curiosity won out. I pressed play.
Needless to say, the veil removed,
Hail and Farewell is astounding - had it been released, it may have been my favorite Mountain Goats album.
However, it can't be. Hell, I may never listen to it again, mostly because I felt such an acute discomfort throughout its duration - a voyeuristic kind of acknowledged shame. The feeling that, as much as I enjoyed this record, it was not mine to enjoy. The knowledge that I just might be totally bumming out someone whose art has entirely enhanced and improved my life in many ways.
I suppose what I'm trying to say is that
Hail and Farewell is a true rarity among most "lost" albums, as it fully lived up to the raging speculation that surrounded it for years. But I can't bear to even know that.
I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't care. But I do.
There is desperation and there is noise.