MJ Lenderman and The Wind: Chaos And Calm Live in Brisbane

MJ Lenderman playing live in Brisbane at The Princess Theatre

MJ LENDERMAN, WAY DYNAMIC

THE PRINCESS THEATRE, BRISBANE

THURSDAY, 17 MARCH 2025

Photos by Marty Kooistra

Words by Ben Preece

Rain and Restless Energy

It’s still raining in Brisbane, and tonight’s lineup could be the perfect soundtrack. The Princess Theatre—one of the city’s cosiest and best-sounding venues—feels like the ideal setting for the evening. The crowd files in politely, and you’d be hard-pressed to pin down a demographic—young hipsters and middle-aged, bearded men stand side by side, all drawn to this unique blend of alt-country.

Many have already had a few under their belt, and with the bar running out of beer cups, it’s clear the drinks are flowing. Yet, the atmosphere remains calm and welcoming. Even Sam Cromack of Ball Park Music can be spotted in the dark—unsurprising, really, given the kind of audience this lineup attracts. His own solo work could slip seamlessly into the night without disruption.

Way Dynamic — Nostalgia Rules

Opening the night is Melbourne’s Way Dynamic, the bedroom recording project of multi-instrumentalist Dylan Young, expanded into a six-piece for the stage. Dripping in ‘70s nostalgia and adorned with gorgeous harmonies, their set is a warm sonic cuddle—meticulously arranged yet effortlessly soothing. They settle comfortably into the lineage of AM radio staples, feeling just one classic song away from joining their ranks. Their execution is spot-on, and the declaration of "one more song left" actually spurred some disappointment—a rare feat for a support act. A hightlight, 'Doctor Doctor' unfolds with an easy, unhurried charm, moving at its own measured pace. There’s no urgency here—just a gentle sway, a lulling rhythm that invites you to simply sink in. The song’s warmth is in its restraint, its melodies never rushing, its instrumentation woven together with a quiet confidence. It feels like an old friend—familiar, comforting, and effortlessly smooth, reminiscent of the easygoing grooves of ‘70s soft rock. Meanwhile, 'Feather' is true to its namesake—light, delicate, and dreamlike. A gentle sway of a song, it floats weightlessly on airy harmonies and understated instrumentation, carried by a deep sense of ease. The band’s ability to create space within the music—allowing melodies to breathe and unfold naturally—makes the song a mesmerising moment of the set, a moment of quiet transcendence that lingers long after the final note fades. Way Dynamic proves that nostalgia doesn’t have to be reductive; in their hands, it’s an open invitation to revisit familiar sounds through a fresh lens. As the final chords ring out, it’s clear they’ve left an impression far beyond that of a typical opening act.

Chaos, But Make It Intentional

MJ Lenderman walks a fine line—somewhere between a frontman who couldn’t care less and a musician who cares so much he refuses to let it show. His live show is a masterclass in controlled chaos, where loose ends and raw edges aren’t mistakes, but part of the grand design. As Bernard Zuel so perfectly articulates in his review, Lenderman follows a slacker lineage "running from Neil Young to J Mascis (of Dinosaur Jr) to Kurt Vile." And throw the clear influence of Bob Dylan in there for good measure.

Stepping onto stage while Yo La Tengo’s 'Ohm' plays, he looks like he might have just rolled out of the van, while his band, The Wind—somewhere between ‘70s California cool and ‘90s indie scruff—settles into place. Xandy Chelmis, the pedal steel/fiddle player and overtly enthusiastic tambourine player, weaves through the haze as the first chords of 'Rudolph' unfold. It’s unhurried, almost lackadaisical—until, suddenly, it isn’t. The guitars crash, hair flies, and the room is swallowed by a wave of sound that’s both completely off the cuff and meticulously built.

A Setlist Catering To All

Lenderman and The Wind don’t just embrace chaos—they orchestrate it, balancing loose and tight elements. Opening with a trio of tracks pulled from three different albums, they let the songs seep into one another before 'Toontown' erupts into a hectic and beautiful crescendo. Then comes 'Inappropriate', barreling forward with ragged precision, Lenderman’s dry wit and weary charm carried by guitars that buzz and hum like an old neon sign about to short out. 'SUV' follows, its pedal steel twisting and bending like a half-remembered dream. It shouldn’t work, but it does—brilliantly.

From there, the band settles into Manning Fireworks, eventually playing all nine of its tracks. The title track begins a 1-2-3 punch of the recent album, the steady churn of 'On My Knees', and last year’s standout single 'Wristwatch'—all are met with the kind of energy that signals this is a band playing at the peak of its powers. The setlist is carefully curated, catering to fans of Lenderman’s last three albums while also throwing in a recently released This Is Lorelei cover and a pair of Boat Songs tracks. Before launching into one of them, animated bassist Landon George takes a moment to comment on just how much water there is in Brisbane, a fitting acknowledgment of the night’s soaked surroundings.

MJ Lenderman Live: More Than Melancholy

At the heart of Lenderman’s music isn’t passive wistfulness, but a careful balancing act between abandon and intent. 'Pianos' tumbles forward with its descending melody and soaring guitars, landing perfectly between reckless and euphoric. 'You Don’t Know The Shape I’m In' smoulders in a haze of atmosphere, while 'She’s Leaving You' pushes against its own loose seams, revealing flashes of pure pop heart beneath the fuzz.

Even the encore, a solo cover of Smudge’s 'The Outdoor Type' feels like an experiment in beautiful collapse. Much like the original, it frays at the edges, threatening to unravel completely—except Lenderman always knows when to pull it back together. The rest of the encore satisfies completely, including the fiddle-friendly 'Rip Torn' and 'Knockin’', which falls apart beautifully, completing the show.

Falling Apart With Purpose

There’s an undeniable throughline in Lenderman’s music: it may sound like it’s teetering on the edge, but that edge is precisely where it’s meant to be. There’s a weariness in the sound, a weary acknowledgment of life’s heavy toll, but beneath it, there’s also an unwavering belief in the power of music to awaken something deeper. Every note, no matter how scruffy or worn, serves as a reminder that chaos can be liberating, not suffocating. It’s music that pulls you out of yourself, pulling you back into the present with an urgency that’s hard to shake off. His songs never lull you—they jolt you awake, challenging you to feel something raw, real, and undeniably alive.

MJ Lenderman live on stage doesn’t just embrace chaos—he crafts it, shaping disarray with meticulous intention, all while making it seem effortless. It’s in the way he lets his music swirl and collide, never quite falling apart, but always on the verge. It’s a delicate dance between recklessness and control, and with every performance, he proves that sometimes the most powerful things are the ones that seem to unravel—only to reveal something more profound in the end.