“What the fuck is up East Platte!?”

Sensitive and musically inclined white boys have existed since the dawn of time. Think of your banana pancake Jack Johnson types. The dad-like Jeff Tweedy characters who are honest with their past troubles and inevitably charismatic through their persistent optimism. And although that archetype has largely stayed the same, the aesthetic, the grunginess, the “dirtywhiteboyness” has morphed. And in 2025, it has found a new host in MJ Lenderman and his affiliates.

I’m going to come clean here before I get into the details of the MJ Lenderman show earlier this spring. I had not listened to MJ Lenderman, or the Wind (his accompanying band), or any of the other projects they are a part of before the day of the show. So, needless to say, I was unprepared for the assault of performative mustaches that hit me as soon as I entered the venue.  

I was initially skeptical about this whole MJ Lenderman business, especially given his popularity at CC. This is a campus where the Lumineers could probably play a sold out show. So, I wasn’t expecting anything other than what seemed like another iteration of the same CC obsession with modern folksy acoustic ballads (e.g. Noah Kahan). Even as they set up, there was a stick of incense carefully burning behind them on stage. I thought I had them figured out.

And then they played the first chord of “Ghost of Your Guitar Solo”. I’ve never felt more stupidly naive in my life. 

If you are an avid MJ Lenderman fan, or have even just heard the song before, you can imagine my mind being blown by the absolutely devastating tune they chose to open with. If you have still not listened to MJ Lenderman, I would implore you to start with this song. It is immediately clear that these guys are different, hailing from the Uncle Tupelos and James McMurtrys, the grittier side of Americana. For those of you familiar with the Moonshiner cover by Uncle Tupelo, this song is that kind of devastating. The “if I don’t drink myself to death something went wrong” kind of devastating. Needless to say, these white boys had me hooked from the first note.

In addition to their musical predecessors, their collective aesthetic positioned them as the culmination of all those that came before them. The bassist, Landon George (my new favorite musician of all time), reminds me more of a character from Trailer Park Boys than anything else. And the lead guitarist off to his right looks like he came straight from a Grateful Dead concert in the 70s. Which leaves the man himself in the center, Mark Jacob Lenderman, fitting right into the slot of the modern dirtywhiteboy. But instead of long hair or baggy button-down shirts, the contemporary version is more well-kept, opting to sport clogs and nicely-fitted sweaters instead. Replacing the typical aesthetic factors is instead a sense of emotional vulnerability, and sometimes, even honest fragility. 

That emotional vulnerability characterized most of the songs he performed, especially those from the new album Manning Fireworks. Tracks like “You Don’t Know The Shape I’m In” present us a more mature songwriter than his last LP, having perfected his witty self-deprecating style. He communicates the slow, mutual drift apart from a partner in only a few lines, showing off his ability to condense a rather heavy emotion into jokes about a half-mast McDonald’s flag. This is where he begins to deviate from his predecessors and opt for absurd conciseness rather than crafted narratives. And even if the lyricism goes over your head (like it did for me when I first saw them), the fiddle and steel pedal interludes that pop up in every other song or so clue you to this matured group on stage. 

And as they made their way through their set, winding through recent hits like “Wristwatch” and “She’s Leaving You”, every song got me more and more invested in their blend of country-rock and Americana. The band’s personality comes out in every tune: no overplaying, no flashy bells and whistles, just five musicians perfectly in sync. But besides their musical talent, their personality also charmed me as the night went on. Between most songs, with the incense still serenely burning on an amp above them, they would take another big swig of their tall-boy beers, going through at least two or three by the end of the set. I was transported to the middle of nowhere Appalachia sitting in a lawnchair with a beer in hand. 

They even yelled at the crowd, asking where the hell they were. They decided a better name for the Springs was East Platte, inspired by a fan’s baseball cap. I say we adopt it ASAP. 

Then, towards the end of the show, just when I thought the surprise couldn’t get any better, they broke into another song off of their new album, “Bark At the Moon”. It started like most of the other songs, sporting perfectly restrained musicianship, twangy guitar, and clever one-liners. (“I could really use your two cents babe, I could really use the change”). 

But as the song progressed and arrived at the three-minute and 30-second mark, an unexpected show of artistic range struck me over the head. Instead of a short and sweet end to the song, a tidal wave of ambient noise hit us, something akin to Wilco’s “Reservations” And it didn’t let up for 9 minutes. I now listen to the album version of the song just to get to this exact moment, trying anything to remember that feeling. The audience’s bodies reverberated from the sheer amount of bass tones coming through the speakers, and I stood there absolutely taken aback. Landon grabbed a bow for his bass guitar, and I almost passed out from excitement. I swear to god I can still hear those low-pitched orchestral walls of sound if I try hard enough. It was then that it finally dawned on me how fortunate I was to be seeing these musicians on stage.

These weren’t just talented guys who challenged my brainless assumption that they were grifters of the whole country-rock genre, but further, a light of hope for the increasingly hegemonic political stance that is associated with country music and its associated sub-genres. I mean, they got a whole crew of CC students there for Christ’s sake. If you need any more proof, go read Pitchfork’s article about MJ Lenderman and New York City Democratic Mayoral Nominee Zohran Mamdani. If bringing out one of the most promising progressive candidates that our generation has seen at their show isn’t enough proof, then I don’t know what is. 

Beyond that, MJ Lenderman and The Wind have already perfected one style, and already show the knack of easily nailing another one. They have shown everyone that there is a new scene for alt-country, most importantly, one formed by young people. There is a needed renaissance on the horizon for Americana and Alt-Country. And MJ Lenderman might just be the perfect person to lead it.