Whirring guitars pierce through the night, sloshing through the cramped crowd of Théâtre Fairmount. The amps engulf the room in a communication of riffs, a call-and-response of rhythmic strums with the scalding guitar whistles and twang of the pedal steel. As the audience returns lyrical chants to the stage, shock transforms the performers’ modest demeanours into a mix of shy charisma and humble fortitude. Sporting clogs and a pair of worn-out Levi’s, MJ Lenderman and his touring band, The Wind, took to the stage in effervescent fashion, riding the high of the venue’s vibrant energy.
On his first of three major tours in subsequent months, Lenderman played in Montreal on Oct. 21 in support of his recent record, Manning Fireworks. After its release and succeeding critical acclaim, Lenderman’s fame reached new heights, with many publications pronouncing him the second coming of the pure indie-rock genre. The record is undoubtedly characteristic of several seminal “alt-country” and “loner-rock” records of the early 2000s by the likes of Bill Callahan, Will Oldham, and David Berman, many of whom Lenderman has described as huge influences on his musical output. Manning Fireworks is a lesson in paying homage: His inspirations are apparent in the constructed soundscapes, yet the narratives presented throughout the record are uniquely fresh and unabashedly honest.
In his lyrics, Lenderman embraces the mundanity of the world, humourizing life’s most monotonous moments and embracing the boredom that existence has to offer. There’s art in elevating the unexpected—beauty in the absence of chaotic experience. Each song is an amalgamation of short anecdotes, grappling with the predictability of life in the unintentionally humourous American landscape. In “Joker Lips,” he confesses, “And you know I love my TV / But all I really wanna see / Is see you need me,” and in “You Don’t Know The Shape I’m In,” he recalls how “We sat under a half-mast McDonald’s flag.” His words carry a meta-recognition of the falsities of the American psyche and the emotions that plague a society so reliant on consumerism and corporate power structures. Lenderman’s tracks come across as honest documentations of America’s depravities and frank recollections of the modern world’s accidental absurdism. On “Rudolph,” he somehow describes accurately and emotively the feeling of helpless vulnerability with the comedic metaphor of a “Deleted scene of Lightning McQueen / Blacked out at full speed.”
His lyrics become more potent when considering the current landscape of loss in Lenderman’s hometown of Asheville, North Carolina. The shocking arrival of Hurricane Helene in late September destroyed homes and entire neighbourhoods as a result of mass flooding. Many figures in the Asheville music scene—including Lenderman’s other band Wednesday—have documented the displacement and devastation experienced by the city’s residents and called upon people across the country to donate to the city’s reconstruction. As a result, Lenderman cancelled several of the tour’s early stops. Lenderman informed the show’s audience of a new song he contributed to the compilation album Cardinals At The Window. With over one hundred participating musical artists, the record is only available through purchase, with its proceeds going to rebuilding Western North Carolina. Playing the new track, “Pianos,” Lenderman’s performance was a triumphant reassertion of Asheville’s musical spirit and the strength of its residents in the face of disaster.
The power of MJ Lenderman and The Wind as a musical unit is clear: They don’t play separate parts, but rather formulate a soundscape reliant on creative convergence and the synergy of their musical contributions. With every song, one could feel the immense joy emanating from each member; they were playing for themselves, yet their joy was undeniably contagious.
MJ Lenderman’s music can be found on all music platforms.
