Manning Fireworks Review
Benjamin R
Songwriter and music critic Scott Miller once wrote that “Originality is unmusical. The urge to do music is an admiring emulation of music one loves; the urge toward originality happens under the threat that the music that sounds good to you somehow isn’t good enough.” If he was alive today, Miller would be proud of the modern indie landscape, where the hippest thing you can do is rip off groups like Dinosaur Jr. or My Bloody Valentine ad infinitum. He’d be exceptionally proud of MJ Lenderman (short for Mark Jacob), who I’ve seen compared to indie and country singer-songwriters such as Jason Molina or Neil Young an almost hysterical (in either sense of the word) number of times. Even the criticism around this guy is derivative!
Lenderman hails from Asheville, North Carolina, where he’s been developing his career both as a solo musician and as the guitarist for Wednesday, the shoegaze project of ex-girlfriend Karly Hartzman. Lenderman’s early work is lo-fi, often frustratingly so, but his brand of noisy alt-country has grown in production value and ambition throughout the years; 2022’s Boat Songs garnered him notable press attention and a record deal with Epitaph sister label Anti-.
I first heard about Lenderman through “The Website” (Formerly Known as Twitter), where he’s incessantly brought up as a sort of sainthood-bound guitar-revival genius. I gave Boat Songs a spin, and was blown away by opener “Hangover Game.” Awestruck, I rewinded the track before going through the rest of the album. I was hooked on how Lenderman blended the loose but poetic lyricism of alt-country idol David Cloud Berman (often known by the suspiciously similar shorthand of D.C. Berman) with dense, noisy layers of tortured electric guitar. Either quality would be admirable on its own, but together they made something special. His latest album, Manning Fireworks, has garnered a slew of social media posts and mainstream press articles, all promising it to be the latest entry in the alt-country canon.
Manning Fireworks sees Lenderman step out of his comfort zone. This isn’t to say that he’s undergone a dramatic stylistic shift, but rather that he’s attempted a more subtle and mature approach to his songwriting and lyricism. The opening three tracks tread through similar mid-tempo country-rock territory, letting Lenderman's clever rhyme structures shine through. “Joker Lips” strings together “Please don't laugh, only half of what I said,” briefly pausing before “was a joke,” then resolving the stanza with “every Catholic knows he could've been Pope.” These first few tracks may lack the immediate impact of Boat Songs, but their production and arrangement has markedly improved. Gone is the muddiness of Lenderman’s previous work; every part manages to feel present despite the denser arrangements. Even as someone who loves lo-fi music and believes that bigger recording budgets do not mean more interesting records, this is an obvious upgrade over his prior sound.
On “Wristwatch,” our insecure narrator brags about his “houseboat docked at the Himbo Dome” and his titular wristwatch, which functions as everything from a pocket knife to a megaphone. While songs like “Wristwatch” are character-driven satires, there’s a subtle autobiographical bent to them that appears throughout Lenderman’s work. He pokes fun at himself through the viewpoint of these dysfunctional, ridiculous caricatures. On “She’s Leaving You,” Lenderman strips away a bit of that narrative distance to write more directly about his breakup with Wednesday singer and songwriter Karly Hartzman. Ironically, this is one of six songs on the album to feature Hartzman’s backing vocals.
“You Don’t Know the Shape I’m In” is the most gloriously unoriginal cut off the album, simultaneously referencing The Band while bearing a striking resemblance to The Replacements’ “Within Your Reach,” and even Lenderman’s own “You Are Every Girl to Me.” My favorite track is the closer, “Bark at the Moon.” With the line “You’re in on my bit, you’re sick of the shtick, well what did you expect?,” Lenderman strips away the dumb-guy veneer for a moment of vulnerability. I admire the stupid cleverness of “I could really use your two cents babe, I could really use the change” or the reserved desperation in how he sings “Don’t move to New York City babe, it’s gonna change the way you dress.” It’s the final verse that is truly exceptional, with Lenderman retreating from the world of newfound indie stardom, admitting that he’s “never really left my room.” He diminishes his own originality and accepts the facade: Lenderman has merely been up playing Ozzy Ozbourne’s “Bark at the Moon” on Guitar Hero. He then seems to quote Warren Zevon’s howl on “Werewolves of London” with the closing line “A-woo, bark at the moon.” The band jams out for about a minute, and then something unexpected happens. The guitar solo comes to an end, the groove suddenly stops, and we’re hit with a wave of feedback. For the next six and a half minutes, Lenderman and his band lead us through a slowly evolving drone, laden with layers of feedback, subtle drum rolls, guitar harmonics, soft trombone and the low, murmuring background growl of what almost sounds like Lenderman’s voice. This drone is reportedly something that his band tends to do live, and it makes sense. It feels raw and unplanned, standing in stark contrast to the polish of the rest of the album.
Manning Fireworks sees Lenderman go hi-fi without compromising what made his sound interesting in the first place. However, he often sounds uncomfortable here; some of the lyricism falls flat or is literally uncomfortable (the imagery on “Joker Lips” of “draining cum from hotel showers” or the drunken self-parody of “Rip Torn”). The critical buzz around this, the profiles from outlets as big as The New York Times or The New Yorker, contrasts with my own dispassionate response and leaves me a little confused. Perhaps nowadays people are simply excited to hear competent, tasteful guitar music, no matter how derivative it may be. I appreciate the polish of Manning Fireworks but if you want to hear what some of these songs could’ve been like, check out the version of “Rudolph” off his live album. It’s forceful and raw in a way that the studio version isn’t, and Lenderman sounds at home amidst the scuzz and imperfections of live performance. The band goes on a gratuitous jam, which I wish Lenderman had the confidence to include on Manning Fireworks. He’s obviously capable of stretching his songs out while keeping things engaging; the shortest track on his self-titled album was over 4 minutes long!
If I’m frustrated about this record, maybe it’s because this feels like an intermediate stage between the comfortable lack of ambition on Boat Songs and something much greater. Lenderman seems just as aimless like his characters, but that might be what he’s trying to get at. Perhaps Manning Fireworks is about not knowing what to say, about being 25 and lost, about being exhausted and struggling to find connection in a world where booze and technology serve to cut you off. Maybe it's just a vehicle to write petty songs about your ex. Whether Lenderman remains admirably unoriginal or stretches his voice further is up to him, but I think he recognizes his own potential, and I can’t wait to see what lies beyond that feedback loop of emulation.
