At his concert at Lee’s Palace in Toronto on Saturday, the young indie rocker who has been described as his generation’s Neil Young more or less showed why that label fits. With his band, the Wind, the lanky, tousled MJ Lenderman rocked tough and loose like it was 1975 (and sometimes like it was 1995).
He sang his conversational poetry with an endearingly awkward tenor voice. His guitar jangled here and howled there. His soloing is more about emotion and drone than velocity – a painter, not a picker. He doesn’t so much bend notes, but submit them to his will.
As with Young’s music, Lenderman’s can be delightful and intense at the same time.
He’s no imitator, though. My comparisons are not an accusation. The native of Asheville, N.C., has a slack, southern-fried style that is unique enough that it is unlikely Young is even a heavy influence. Apparently, he was exposed to Jason Molina and Sparklehorse’s Mark Linkous at a young age. Stephen Malkmus and J Mascis may be influences.
What Lenderman and Young absolutely share is the sudden rush of fame the former is now experiencing. Not long ago a curious newcomer with a few underground albums to his credit, the 25-year-old is now a full-blown wunderkind after the recent release of his superb new record, Manning Fireworks. He’s at the crossroads, poised either for stardom or for the cult level of success associated with, say, Jeff Mangum’s defunct Neutral Milk Hotel.
Mangum failed to deal with his band’s sudden public exposure, and he’s certainly not the only example of that struggle. The Canadian rock troubadour Young was in his early 20s when he wrote Mr. Soul, a song about fame and artistic compromise: “For the thought that I caught that my head was the event of the season; Why in crowds just a trace of my face could seem so pleasin’…”
By the way, the capacity crowd for Lenderman at Lee’s Place was not all young fans. (In the subway after the show, I caught more than one avuncular loner on the way home, clutching Lenderman vinyl.) If I had to guess, I’d say the men came for Lenderman’s instrumental prowess. His 2021 album is titled Ghost of Your Guitar Solos; there was a collective “Ooh,” when he pulled out a Fender Jazzmaster. The sports references in his songs must be catnip for the jocks.
What do the women dig? Perhaps it is the wry, sensitive lyricism. His couplet game is strong. He’s not hard on the eyes, either.
“So you say I’ve got a funny face,” he sang on the opening number, Wristwatch. “It makes me money.” Carried by a mournful pedal-steel guitar, the song about loneliness is catchy enough. I can hum it for you if you would like.
Joker Lips has a funny title, but the vibe is melancholic: “Please don’t laugh, only half of what I said was a joke.” The crowd sang along to the line, “Kahlúa shooter, DUI scooter.”
Lenderman is a former altar boy who drops religious references into his lyrics. It must please the sacramental wine set to no end to hear, “Every Catholic knows he could’ve been pope” (on Joker Lips) and, “I wouldn’t be in the seminary if I could be with you” (on Rudolph). Also in the set list was Catholic Priest, which outlined the benefits of celibacy: “I would never have to worry about the girls tryin’ to break my heart.”
He lyrically referenced Bob Dylan, obviously on Knockin, and only slightly less so on Rudolph: “How many roads must a man walk down ‘til he learns he’s just a jerk who flirts with the clergy nurse ‘til it burns?” The Dylan enthusiasts in the room must have been trembling under their leopard-skin pillbox hats.
Though he didn’t talk much on stage, Lenderman did wear a T-shirt advertising the name of the opening band, Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band, from Kentucky. That kind of gesture from a main act makes him a righteous dude in the indie-music world. He also announced that proceeds from some of his own merchandise would benefit North Carolina flood victims.
MJ Lenderman & the Wind play Montreal’s Fairmount Theatre on Monday, and at Vancouver’s Rickshaw Theatre on Feb. 21. Bigger rooms are already booked for May, including a pair of shows at Toronto’s 1,500-capacity Danforth Music Hall.
Who knows where Lenderman ends up in the grander scheme of things. Right now, he appeals more to critics than to the general public. But it appears he knows his way around hooks enough that hit singles seem possible.
He can check out of the Neutral Milk Hotel any time he likes, but will he ever wish to leave?