MJ Lenderman live review: a beast of a rock show, plain and simple
It might seem like the sort of question that someone who is much more jaded with the current state of music would ask, but where exactly have all the rock stars gone? Are we just living in a generation that has grown up not placing as much value on them, getting more easily drawn in by songs that are instantly catchy, or is it more reflective of society moving on, with the desire for something that feels new taking precedence over a rehashing of old styles?
This is something that’s reflected in major festival headliners, with the likes of 79-year-old Neil Young being booked to headline Glastonbury this summer ahead of a newer alternative within the same sphere. Young will undoubtedly be a worthy headliner, and will please fans of all generations, but when he and his peers inevitably escape this mortal coil, will there ever be direct replacements for them who reach the same heights, or do we live in an era that no longer requires the next Neil Young?
If we were to nominate anyone from the current crop of rising artists who ought to be revered in the same way, then you need look no further than MJ Lenderman. His brand of Americana-adjacent slacker rock takes as many cues from the acts of the mid-century as it does ‘90s cult acts like Pavement and Sparklehorse, but doesn’t do so in a studied way that feels like he’s deliberately trying to appease multiple audiences. Everything is completely natural about the Asheville, North Carolina guitarist, and his dedication to the craft is something that is incredibly apparent from his behemoth of a live show.
If you want a laid-back, no-nonsense, good old-fashioned rock show, then you’re in the right place watching Lenderman. Returning to the UK swiftly after his last visit to play considerably larger venues, the tour kicked off at Bristol’s Marble Factory, playing to an audience of 1600 people clamouring for this exact concoction, and despite only being four albums into his career, the fact he manages to draw the set out for an hour and 45 minutes without any of it feeling superfluous feels indicative of the stardom that awaits him.
Every song from Manning Fireworks, his stellar album from last year, is met with rapturous cheers, with ‘Rudolph’ kicking off proceedings, ‘Wristwatch’ laying claim to becoming something of a generation-defining anthem, and ‘Bark At The Moon’ being a 10-minute odyssey that descends into droning feedback as Lenderman drags his instrument around the stage like he’s vacuuming the surface. The rest of the band back him with a steadfast assuredness, but the real gem among them is the multi-instrumentalist who provides pedal steel guitar, fiddle and percussion at various points, adding additional texture to the otherwise stripped-back sonics.
On top of this, there’s a fair amount of his third record, Boat Songs, represented in the set, as well as early tracks like ‘Catholic Priest’ and his latest charity release, ‘Pianos’. The main set closes with ‘Knockin’’, a track that is more than just a nod to Bob Dylan’s ‘Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door’, and the encore begins with a track that actually belongs to the folk bard himself, bringing out a thrilling rendition of ‘Something There Is About You’, despite the couple of false starts.
Aside from hauling the guitar across the floor and some slightly awkward stage patter, you don’t get much in the way of theatrics and bravado from Lenderman; he’s here to rock, and it’s as simple as that. There was no chance he’d repeat the antics of The Dare’s show at the very same venue and catastrophically fuck up a stage dive, because the quality of the set and the songs he produces speak for themselves.
While it might be one of the final shows I ever attend at Marble Factory, with it due to close down in July, it’s fitting that this chapter of my gig-going experiences in Bristol was capped off with something so captivating. It might seem odd to say, having to stew in its oven-like climate and inhale the fetid stench of flannel-clad dudes one last time is something I’ll miss too – they might not be the most pleasant aspects of attending a show there, but they’re an integral part of the sensory experience. If you’re not getting a waft of dankness every time someone squeezes by you at a show like this, something’s not right.
At the age of 26, to have two critically acclaimed records behind you and an audience that belts every lyric back at you is quite astounding, and while it might be the sort of show where you contemplatively quaff your weak lager rather than leap about in ecstasy, you can tell that for the entirety of the set, everyone is transfixed on Lenderman’s gripping performance. There’s plenty of catharsis in his lyricism, and plenty of religious themes that tackle scepticism around worship, but everyone in the room appears to have congregated to pray at the altar of this rock and roll deity.
