C’mon Los Angeles: MJ Lenderman and The Wind, Night One at The Fonda13.feb.25 rainy rock, shoegaze, contrygaze, indie, country

For, simultaneously, all the possible good and bad reasons, this was A Memorable Show. I felt the full range of human emotions between the hours of 8:20 and 12:40 last night. The performance itself was incredible, packed with standout moments too numerous to be named. Before I get into that though, I think my thoughts on the performance will be best served by first explaining the audience and its vibe, which leaned into the less desirable range of human emotion.

The audience was a fucking mess last night. It started off so wrong. Before the opener, way before any semblance of a show had begun, audience members all around me were fighting each other for the spot they claimed. I arrived at the venue fairly early and alone, so as a 5’1” person, I easily found a spot at the very front against the rail. What felt like hordes of underage, drunk college kids kept showing up, having pushed their way to the very front and invaded everyone’s personal space in the process.

A lone young college boy pushed forward on my right between me and an older gentleman doing leg stretches and claimed to know the other young blonde boy in front of us who was with two other young girls. The boy and girls looked at him so confused when he claimed to know them. Leg stretches jumped in to tell off young pusher, doubting the veracity of his “I swear I know him”s and letting him know we had all staked our spot out hours prior. After what felt like an eternity, Blonde Boy's eyes widened with recognition under his blonde bangs. They knew each other from class. Young Pusher swore repeatedly to Leg Stretches he just wanted to say hi to his friend and had no idea how intense the spot stuff is and that he would go back to where he was before if it was an issue, he swore and swore until Leg Stretches dropped it, at which Young Pusher dropped it too and stayed behind us the rest of the night. At one point, he leaned back completely over me, momentarily crushing me to take a selfie with the band performing on his digital camera. I regret not cussing him out for that because I am Sick And Tired of Tall Men Touching Me Either Without Noticing Like I’m Some Mouse or Without Caring Because They Never Apologize.

To my left, Thank you Man and Woman in their 30s who told very drunk college girl and her boyfriend they could not squeeze in front of them against the rail 1) because an older gentleman had already claimed that spot and had run to the bathroom and 2) they were talking through the entire opener (which holy shit did I love the opener). They retreated for a while, but about halfway through MJ’s set they reappeared behind me where they screamed the lyrics, she gasped and moaned and groaned like a feral cat in heat (I am not exaggerating. I wish I was.) and he talked and talked and fidgeted with her corset that had ripped and kept coming off exposing her nipples. There was so much bad, stressful, sexual, disrespectful ridiculously drunk and touchy behavior. I did my best to keep to myself, I kept my headphones on before the show and blasted Kero Kero Bonito, during the show I focused as much as I could on watching the boys perform so delightfully, and throughout I flashed the occasional frustrated glare, ignoring the drama.

I almost forgot to mention what I’m convinced was the shotgun that marked the start of the bad audience behavior race. The curtains opened up and MJ + band walked out to their instruments to a fun upbeat prerecorded track. It was silly and cute. They get set up, the track ends and MJ says hey LA wooo the usual. A second of silence begins before the first chord is to be played, when a red-haired arm emerges to my right holding a bright green ornament. “XANDY!” “XANDY!” “BUZZBALL!!” the arm screams. Um, what?????? Xandy Chelmis, pedal steel player for Wednesday and MJ, a sweetie with incredible talent and clear love for music and his craft, looks so uncomfortable. It’s like someone forced a puppy into a corner. He’s clearly caught off guard and embarrassedly, silently shakes his head left and right. Wordlessly “no.” Sheepishly forced smile. The Red-Haired Arm smacks itself into the forehead, loud and hard. “Neeeewwwwoooooooooooo” the arm wails, receding a couple rows back into the crowd. I blame the Red-Haired Arm for throwing off the vibes on a collective level for the show (because believe it or not, the entire audience gets worse!) No amount of incense burned on stage could sober up or properly socialize these Pandemic-Come-of-Age kids. I fear running into more crowds like this one…

Now that I’ve summarized more than enough of my Angeleno shame and guilt (I swear these kids aren’t LA born x raised like meee I sweaarrrrr), the good stuff. The actual fucking music.

Starting with Wild Pink. All I knew about Wild Pink going in was from checking out their Instagram preshow. I saw their Pitchfork Perfect 10 album was Tunnel of Love by Bruce Springsteen. Talk about a fucking green ass flag. I looooooove that album to a ridiculous point. I made the decision right then that I wouldn’t check out their music until after seeing them live. There’s something really special at this point in my life and music to be able to go into a performance with little to no knowledge of the band. I don’t have the money to go see shows for artists I’m not already obsessed with. So, it was really really awesome to have my first intro to Wild Pink be live, in the front row, at the Fonda. First song and I thought two things 1) Holy shit they really like Bruce Springsteen you can tell from the fucking incredible drums and bass and 2) The drummer kinda looks like Rob Stark?? If he survived the Red Wedding and that whole experience made him lose all the muscle he had before??? That’s pretty sick. Wild Pink is loud in this way the overpowers any thought you could possibly have watching them but also isn’t uncomfortable for your ears (I forgot my earplugs and was comfortable the whole night). The only thought I had watching Wild Pink was holy shit Wild Pink . wow , wie wowie wow .,,,,

So contrary to what this 3-5 page paper would make you think so far about what I thought about the show, what I actually thought is not what you think. MJ Lenderman and the Wind fucking killed last night. I think I have, what you say, gender envy. I yearn for the kind of comradery with these guys that can only come from being another dude in music. Also, just the stinky vibe. I yearn for my moment in the stinky sun… The set list was awesome, obviously they played the entire new album, which the crowd screamed along to the whole night (tough) and they played some older MJ hits I love like No Mercy and a tune I had never heard before Pianos, released on the Cardinals at the Window compilation record for Hurricane Helene relief. Both of the covers for the night (Dancing in the Club by This is Lorelai and Lotta Love by Neil Young) were such natural picks for MJ’s voice and humor, Lotta Love was my favorite of the two.

I wasn’t kidding when I said I felt the full range of human emotion during the performances. While the audience elicited only negative emotions in me, the music had me feeling all those negative ways (anxious, confused, weirded out) as well as all the really awesome cool ways (elated, giggly, rockin so hard) you want to feel while listening to something??

I cried through You Don’t Know the Shape I’m In. I listened to that song in particular a lot the last few months, I love the clarinet in it and its silly lyrics/boat themes.

We sat / Under a half-mast McDonald’s flag being the lyrics that follow a comparison between Noah’s Ark and the flood to a Sunday at the water park….. Niceeee. he he eh he

Listening to it live (a rendition that felt so soft and sensitive and simplified) made me realize it’s inadvertently become the soundtrack to some of the worst experiences I’ve ever had. My abuela who raised me passed unexpectedly in October, 2 weeks after my dad received a terminal diagnosis. Those experiences, coupled, made me move back from my 7 years on the east coast to my family home in LA in with my mom. 2 days before the MJ show we found out our landlord is selling the property, and we are likely going to be kicked out within 60 days of closing (unless they sell it to some other nice landlords who decide they don’t want to renovate the units for a profit and kick us out. this is unlikely in LA). My grief has been insurmountable most of the time, and I’ve been thinking listening to Manning Fireworks the last few months that dang this album is so fun and good it’s so wonderful to escape that. But seeing it performed live, I realized damn I haven’t really escaped any of that shit at all I’ve just been listening to music that makes me chuckle through it and it’s become inextricable from the grief. That’s not to say I now have a negative association with Manning Fireworks. All the opposite, it’s become an integral part of my identity these last few months and it’s a part of myself and my grief that I do love. If someone can love on their grief. So yeah, I cried during that song and worked hard to not cry after it ended. Had me feeling so insane crying around a bunch of underage college kids who are screaming the lyrics to every song and generally crushing me (physically, emotionally, spiritually…..)

All in all, I had a wonderful night alone at the MJ Lenderman and The Wind show. It felt really good, in a time where I’ve had to take care of others a lot, to get to go do something alone and have some simple good $64 fun. Can’t wait to be in the income bracket (unlikely) where I can unapologetically buy 20 oz of Modelo for $14 : )