MJ Lenderman - Manning Fireworks Review
MJ Lenderman returns with another effortless slice of country-slack that reaches emotional affect from unassuming places.
At just 25, North Carolina's MJ Lenderman already has an impressive volume of work behind him. Listing collaborations with indie acts Wednesday and Waxahatchee, coupled with three studio albums and a fan-favourite live document with backing band The Wind, Lenderman is gifted with an unerring ability to imbue his prolific output with a special air of breezy effortlessness.
For his latest LP Manning Fireworks, Lenderman has dialled down the lo-fi garage that fuzzed all over 2022's Boat Songs in favour of a brighter, clearer sonic space for his trademark country slack to roll forth with richer clarity. This sunny production, with assistance from studio engineer Alex Farrar, cradles each instrument with intimate warmth, affording the record an unassuming yet vivid aura that exists in apt harmony with Lenderman's grounded rootsiness.
As ever, Lenderman's knack for crafting simple country-rock filled with stirring emotional affect shines on cuts like 'Wristwatch', a gentle piece of satire poking fun at insecure, material flaunt that channels early Neil Young's folk-rock with Dinosaur Jr.'s laconic vocal drawl. 'She's Leaving You' (written before his break-up with Wednesday's Karly Hartzman yet featuring her vocals) too exemplifies an uncanny grasp of lilting melody that subtly hides deeper, acerbic observations, "go rent a Ferrari, and sing the blues, believe that Clapton was the second coming" crooned with dry mirth.
Manning Fireworks rarely deviates from its twofer offerings of gentle country strum or slack rock, so the moments where the record almost takes you by the hand and leads you down unexpected creative avenues are greatly welcome. Sham's Shane McCord adds a clarinet to the shuffling 'You Don't Know The Shape I'm In' which walks an oddly English kind of psychedelia in the vein of Robert Wyatt, but it's the album's finale 'Bark At The Moon' which gifts the record its most intriguing moment at its most curveball; a seven-odd minute of feedback distortion that eventually floats into a sincerely cerebral piece of meditative ambience, deftly showcasing Lenderman's equal command of sculpted noise as he does hooky indie.
While Lenderman's obvious Jason Molina and J Mascis influences hover all over Manning Fireworks, the album's carried with enough sincerity and authentic authority that stops it from ever feeling overly derivative. With another offering of languid country rock which at its best can reach soaring heights of absorbing songcraft, Lenderman clearly shows he's still full of ideas.