amoeba.com“There’s some bullshit idea that we’re not gonna sing along to my songs, like why the fuck’d I write them then, anyway?”
So spoke Jeff Mangum, leader of influential ‘90s band Neutral Milk Hotel, trying to coax the hushed and sold-out audience at Toronto’s Trinity St. Paul’s to join in on “Two-Headed Boy Pt. Two,” the closing track of his band’s 1998 masterpiece—and final album—In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Mangum disbanded NMH shortly after the success of Aeroplane and became a musical recluse, avoiding the stage and spotlight for close to ten years, save for some guest appearances and one-off performances, until his recently announced and unexpected tour.
Knowing this, it’s completely understandable that there was initial hesitation to take Mangum up on his offer. After all, when people have been waiting, quite literally, for years to hear songs many thought they never would, they want to hear them. But Mangum was insistent, commanding that the crowd “fucking sing!” before the end of the song. And from then on, sing they did: filling in the horn parts on “King of Carrot Flowers Pts. Two & Three” and “Song Against Sex,” holding a note as “Naomi” transitioned to “April 8th,” getting in on the “1234” count-off to “Holland, 1945,” and lending their voices to everything else. The “Church of Mangum” symbolism wasn’t lost on the audience, but what one would’ve expected to be a reverent, dignified gig instead became a convivial, campfire singalong.
As far as the quality of the music, Mangum certainly didn’t sound like he’d been inactive for close to a decade. His voice was clear and more powerful than on record, no doubt aided by the pristine acoustics of the venue, and when he hit those high, sustained notes, especially on “Oh Comely,” the results were shiver-inducing. Former NMH contributors Scott Spillane and Laura Carter also appeared occasionally to fill out the sound on flugelhorn and clarinet, respectively.
Throughout the show, Mangum appeared set on breaking down the audience/performer barrier. For such an enigmatic musician, he was relaxed, upbeat, and seemed generally happy to be playing the songs so many know and love to those that know and love them. There was even an impromptu interview session where Mangum opened up the floor to questions from the audience and confirmed that he had gone through periods of writing, but won’t put anything out unless his heart is in it.
While his motivations for returning to the stage remain unknown, to try and draw bigger conclusions about what this means for the future would be to miss the point entirely. Mangum said it matter of factly at the beginning of the show: “We’re together now.” And he couldn’t have been more right. The evening wasn’t about him. It was about us.
