bReview: MJ Lenderman & The Wind

bReview: MJ Lenderman & The Wind 
Tuesday 1 April 2025 at the Powerstation
Words by Imogene Bedford 
Photography by Nico Rose Penny 

When asked what music I like a couple of weeks ago, I said anything but country. Somehow this has become a kind of baseline answer for many so-called genre agnostics; an overeagerness to create some kind of strange distinction between “folk” and “country.”

Yet, when I really think about it, it’s hard to articulate why we reject country. I grew up listening to 90s grunge, a genre that is indebted to the storytelling and sound of country music. It’s impossible not to hear that lineage in the textures of Nutshell or the slide guitars on Interstate Love Song. 

My aversion to the genre was never really about the sound, but instinctive, instructive.

This piece also isn’t really about country: it’s about MJ Lenderman, the North Carolina musician that is gracing Tãmaki Makaurau’s Powerstation tonight with his band, The Wind. While country is an inescapable influence on his music, his work makes it clear why genre distinctions are meaningless; he’s previously talked about his fusion of styles as a rebellion against the “anything but” country attitude.  

If there’s a sure fire way to make a girl kick herself for talking shit about the genre, it’s watching him perform tonight.

(MJ Lenderman & The Wind at Powerstation / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)

But first, Tāmaki Makaurau’s Preacher takes the stage. What initially sounds like a warmup builds into the searing drums of the first song. The recent Fancy New Band alumni play a tight and thoughtful set. King Country’s riff is all garage rock-revival, while Jordan Lim’s unmistakably Kiwi-inflected vocals give the tune a local edge.

Tonight, the band is being supported by several eager friends in the crowd. Lim’s call for song requests is met with a cry of Freebird, which makes him laugh. It’s disarming how unpretentious the atmosphere is. 

(Preacher, opening for MJ Lenderman & The Wind at Powerstation / Photo: Nico Rose Penny) 

The chemistry between bandmates Lim and bassist Harlen Stewart is palpably fun. As drummer Sian Fenwick is pregnant, tonight Jessie is filling in, and she brings her own cheerful presence to the band.

(Preacher, opening for MJ Lenderman & The Wind at Powerstation / Photo: Nico Rose Penny) 

Their last song, Day Dreamer, closes the set with a strong bassline and emotional guitar. As the music fades, I’m leaning on the balcony in an almost meditative state when I get an ominous Instagram message. “I see you,” it reads. 

Well, it would have been ominous, but it’s just one of my bFM angels. I boost it to meet them in the pit, where they lament the size of tonight’s moon: a meagre 12% sliver, simply too pathetic for the barking required of a Lenderman gig. If he has noticed this inadequacy, he doesn’t show it when he emerges.

He already performed this latest record, Manning Fireworks, in Christchurch and Wellington this week, but each set has been unique. Tonight, he opens with the album’s titular song, boyishly ambling through the acoustic track with a sullen ease.

There is an indulgent interlude as the outro of Bark At The Moon blends into Ghost of Your Guitar Solo, but you can’t help but get lost in the sound. The full band deepens Lenderman’s guitar into something vast and immersive. Maracas shake, pedal steels swirl, and when I look around, barely anyone is on their phone. This isn’t your typical singer-songwriter set: it’s expansive, raucous, provocative.

(MJ Lenderman & The Wind at Powerstation / Photo: Nico Rose Penny) 

Indie music is currently awash with artists who lean into southern textures: Role Model, TOLEDO, the list goes on. But for Lenderman, country is not an aesthetic. It’s what he knows. His songs explore themes of working-class Americana – disappointment, regret and heartache – with authenticity.

He writes about loneliness and materialism on Wristwatch, lamenting the dissonance of consumerist existence: “and a wristwatch that tells me I’m on my own.”

But Lenderman can write about draining jizz from hotel showers as easily as he writes of loneliness. His lyrics are funny and often incredibly creative, speckled with mundane details that are so specific they feel universal. The crassness doesn’t undercut his sincerity: on Joker Lips, he sings “please don’t laugh, only half of what I said was a joke.”

The twangy guitars have as much to say as the lyrics they follow. At times it seems obvious this is how Lenderman is meant to be listened to: in the intimacy of a smaller venue. But on other tracks – Toontown in particular – his capacity for arena rock is equally apparent.

(MJ Lenderman & The Wind at Powerstation / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)

Dry and detached, his slack-jawed vocals may recall Stephen Malkmus, but he is no slacker. The resigned tone of the wry She’s Leaving You cannot disguise how deeply felt Lenderman’s words are. His fuzzy guitar riff rolls into an instrumental that gnaws at you.

It’s not just Malkmus’s pacing Lenderman shares. There is something very Pavement about a lot of his songwriting. On Bark At The Moon, he sings “I could really use your two cents babe/I could really use the change,” a turn of phrase that cleverly converts an idiom into something that smarts.

(MJ Lenderman & The Wind at Powerstation / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)

The comparisons to other songwriters evidently don’t scare him. He is unabashedly referential, something that feels refreshing in an era where many younger artists seem eager to prove they can reinvent the wheel. Instead, Lenderman wears his influences proudly. That much is obvious on Knockin’, a homage to Bob Dylan’s cover.

It’s my highlight of the night. The crack of his voice hits me so squarely that my hand ends up unconsciously on my heart. 

(MJ Lenderman & The Wind at Powerstation / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)

Lenderman seems bashful when he returns for an encore, as if it still surprises him so many people are here to see him. It’s incredibly charming, ironic even. The aloneness of his persona is so ingrained that solitude seems to cling to him. He asks after our backs and feet, and the warmth of this solitary man makes my chest ache.

These final two songs have been the last of the tour, and the weight of that finality seems to bear on him as he wishes us safe travels home with an earnest smile. For all the talk of prank playing, cum, and Lightning McQueen, this April Fools has been no joke to MJ Lenderman. Nothing really is.

(MJ Lenderman & The Wind at Powerstation / Photo: Nico Rose Penny)