Art Is The Weapon

Jeff Mangum

There was so much riding on this. Too much, almost: Jeff Mangum, once dubbed the J.D. Salinger of indie rock, giving his first West Coast performance in over a decade, set to play — everyone hoped — the songs of his beloved band Neutral Milk Hotel. Specifically, it was songs from 1998’s In the Aeroplane Over the Sea we were after, an album that to no small contingent is regarded as among the best ever made, though so few had ever heard its architect play it in person. Mangum has broken his hiatus with a series of well-reviewed theater shows, but this was a festival in the desert. Would he be weird? Would he be kind? He’d requested no photography or video and had the venue repeat the directive twice. Not a good sign. He came out with a tiny wave and made a beeline for the chair at center stage, accompanied only by a rack of guitars. And then … he opened his mouth and for the next 50 minutes, we were his. His voice was superb, unmatched, both sour and sweet, a symphony of struck sheet metal, bagpipes, Kurt Cobain, and a small tin horn resonating from a single throat. It buzzed and it climbed, threaded itself through our heads and curlicued in and out of his acoustic strumming. He opened with “Two Headed Boy Pt. 2” and “Holland, 1945,” dipped into On Avery Island’s “Gardenhead/Leave Me Alone” and an alternate version of “Song Against Sex.” He returned toAeroplane, its titular song accompanied by a pair of flanelled fellas with horns; “The King of Carrot Flowers” parts one, two and three; “Oh Comely” in all of its searing, long-playing glory; and “Ghost,” as haunted and beautiful as it ever was. And as it turned out, he was friendly. He grinned when the audience counted him off for “Holland.” He demanded that the stagehands turn up the lights. (“I like to see the people I’m playing for.”) He called us his friends. And before closing with a dirging full-band version of “Two Headed Boy,” he egged us on: “I want you guys to fucking sing, okay?” Those that could — who weren’t dumbstruck or stammering with tears streaming down their faces — raised their voices for one of the strangest, most beautiful sing-alongs there ever was. And just like that, he was gone again.CHRIS MARTINS

(Source: spin.com)