During a year in which the charts and critical discourse were once again dominated by a handful of massively successful pop stars — Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, Bad Bunny, Harry Styles, Rosalía, you know the roll call — it often seemed like scores of smaller and more homespun records released throughout 2022 instantly fell through the cracks. A happy exception was Boat Songs, a collection of beer-soaked country tunes with heavy guitars and funny lyrics made by a 23-year-old singer-songwriter from Asheville, N.C. named MJ Lenderman.
Released in April, Boat Songs garnered positive reviews from major indie websites, who no doubt had Lenderman on their radar because he also plays guitar in the ascendent folk-shoegaze outfit Wednesday. That band, fronted by Lenderman’s partner Karly Hartzman, signed with Dead Oceans this fall, and is expected to release one of the most anticipated indie-rock records of 2023 sometime in the months ahead.
Had Boat Songs followed the usual trajectory of the “well-reviewed indie LP,” it would by now be regarded as a solid footnote to a buzzy and promising band, fitfully remembered only by diehards. But Lenderman’s album managed to stick around throughout the year as a genuine word-of-mouth cult favorite, the kind of record that music fans wind up passionately stumping for to friends at parties. I speak from personal experience on that count — Boat Songs was a record I liked instantly upon my first listen, loved upon my 10th listen, and then realized was my favorite album of 2022 by around the 50th listen. Countless people I’ve spoken with about Boat Songs report having similar experiences.
On paper, Lenderman might not appear to be doing anything special. His specialty is writing irreverent tearjerkers composed of chunky power chords and references to athletes from the ’80s and ’90s. Sonically, his music resembles the work of Gen X indie bards (Molina, Berman, Oldham) and “Ditch” era Neil Young. But Lenderman doesn’t seem to take himself all that seriously: The most quotable line from Boat Songs — which comes from the album’s grabbiest track — concerns the hilarity of the Jackass franchise.
But there’s a method to the lackadaisical trappings of Boat Songs. Lenderman has a way of underplaying heavy emotions, like in the standout track “Tastes Just Like It Costs,” in which a seemingly silly argument between a couple about wearing a “dumb hat” to dinner reveals an unspoken fault line in their relationship. Like the characters in a Richard Linklater “hangout” movie, the people who populate Lenderman’s musical universe use sports and pop culture as a framework for understanding what’s confusing and painful about their lives, and as a way to articulate what’s otherwise impossible to communicate from inside of their hearts and minds. It’s why, for instance, the image of a former Miami Dolphins quarterback hustling sports memorabilia in the no-fi strummer “Dan Marino” can register — like the rest of Boat Songs — as simultaneously comic and tragic. The humor draws you in just enough so that Lenderman can eventually break your heart.
I wanted to know more about the guy who made my favorite record of the year. So I caught up with Lenderman by phone earlier this week to talk about Boat Songs, his life-long roots in Asheville, the impact of Guitar Hero on his career, his songwriting influences, the 1998 Smashing Pumpkins’ album Adore, and why he probably won’t read this interview.
I visited Asheville about a dozen years ago. It’s a beautiful place and I wanted to move there immediately. What’s your experience been like there?
I’ve grown up with some super close friends that I’ve played music with from when I was 8 years old. It’s a small, very tight community. There’s a few record stores in town and some small venues that I’ve been able to play at since I was in high school. I think that kind of stuff has influenced me a lot, just having the ability to play out and play a lot of bad shows and learn.
My impression of Asheville is: There’s a ton of trees, you’re in the mountains, and it feels like a pleasant little oasis.
Where I live there’s a huge field in front of my house. I don’t really have neighbors. I’ve got some friends that live right next door to me, but that’s about it. We’re only a five-minute drive from downtown, but it feels like we’re out there.
You said you started playing music at age 8. That seems young. What got you started?
Honestly, Guitar Hero. Played a ton of Guitar Hero, then I started playing a real guitar with my friend. The two of us, we took lessons together and we did some of those Rock Band camp things. By the time we were in high school, we started forming our own bands. Probably had four or five different bands in high school. I met Ethan, who plays bass in my band right now, around that time. I never really played anywhere out of town until my senior year of high school. And even that was no more than two hours away. We played in Greensboro once. We played in Raleigh. But we played a ton of shows in town.
When did you start writing songs?
I would say maybe towards my freshman year of high school.
Were you writing songs similar to what you’re doing now?
Some of them are probably the same. I was always into Dinosaur Jr. But the songs were terrible. The lyrics didn’t mean anything. They’re nonsense stuff. I really struggled to find anything to talk about. It was kind of just trying to rip off My Morning Jacket. Then I started realizing that it’d be easier to sing if I know what I’m talking about, if I feel good about the words. That was by the end of my high school years.
What songwriters were influencing you by then?
Learning about Jason Molina was a big deal. David Berman. Will Oldham. Sparklehorse. Those are probably the big ones.
All of your songs have at least one lyric that makes me laugh or smile. But the overall vibe is melancholic.
I learned that kind of thing from Will Oldham and David Berman. They always make me laugh. They opened up some doors. Like on Arise Therefore, just the song titles, like “There’s Cum In Your Hair And Your Dick Is Hanging Out.” It’s the prettiest song on the record. He’s setting up situations and characters that I’d never really heard in songs before, especially after listening to Molina a ton, who’s way more serious. He’s kind of funny sometimes, too, but I didn’t really pick up on that at first.
A recurring motif in your songs is sports references. On Boat Songs there are songs about Michael Jordan and Dan Marino, and you also have a great song called “Knockin'” that’s about the golfer John Daly. What draws you to athletes as protagonists?
I guess they were just on my mind when I was writing, especially with Boat Songs. Actually, Boat Songs was finished before I recorded “Knockin,'” but it was released right after. But I was watching a lot of old basketball games just as something ambient during lockdown, and I started playing basketball again. I grew up playing basketball kind of seriously. I mean, as serious as you can be in middle school and early high school, but I did travel with teams. Then I quit because I liked music more, and I felt like I couldn’t like sports if I wanted to be a musician. For some reason around 2020 I started feeling like it was okay to like sports again. I started to pay attention to the [NBA’s] bubble season and I started shooting again.
Was “Hangover Game” — which is about Michael Jordan’s “flu game” from the 1997 NBA Finals — a product of watching The Last Dance during the lockdown?
Yeah. I made up the rest of the stuff for the song. I regret writing the $3,000 line. I feel like he probably would’ve spent more money.
I love the song “Tastes Just Like It Costs.” But I’m wondering: What does the phrase “tastes just like it costs” mean?
Have you ever had the Wrigley 50-cent gum?
Yes.
That tastes just like it costs.
Oh.
That one’s kind of sloppy. I wrote that in 10 minutes. I just thought it was funny.
The lyrics outline what appears to be a silly argument, but there’s a sinister undertow to that song.
I guess so. Whoever’s talking at the beginning — a boyfriend or somebody like that — seems kind of like an asshole. Just sounds like a bad relationship.
How did you end up in Wednesday?
Me and Karly started dating about a year before. They had another guitar player who plays in a lot of other bands, and he got increasingly busy with the other bands, so then I hopped on. I sang a little bit on the I Was Trying to Describe You To Someone record, and I might have done some guitar noise. I don’t think I played any notes. I just hopped in the band to do the tour, and have been in the band since then.
What’s the status of the next Wednesday album?
It’s done. It’s been done for a while. [Pauses.] I don’t know what I’m allowed to say.
The band seems poised to have a big year in 2023.
It’s a lot to take in just because I’ve been going nonstop all year. I feel like I need a few months off to just think. But we’re feeling good. Overwhelming. A lot of feelings. For me personally — the more I see written about me and see other people’s perception of me — it makes me start to think about me a little differently. I feel like that’s probably not a great thing for an artist, so I try to avoid that as much as possible. I always feel a little bit nervous going through periods of time where I’m not writing, like I’m never going to be able to do it again.
Is it tricky balancing the band with your solo career? Does one have priority over the other?
This year I’ve been, I guess, filling the holes a little bit with my band in between Wednesday tours. I’m maybe catching up to Wednesday with the amount of touring, but I don’t know if “priority” is the right word. It’s more about timing for press cycles and that kind of stuff.
My impression is that Wednesday is basically a vehicle for Karly’s songs, which leaves a lane open for your own songs on your own records.
It’s more like a “she’ll write the songs and then we come up with our parts”-type deal. I’ve written the instrumental for one song and then Xandy [Chelmis] wrote one song, but it’s mostly Karly. I’ll always do my own records. I’ve been doing that longer than Wednesday has been a thing.
I need to talk to you about Smashing Pumpkins. I know you’re a fan, and that you covered “Perfect” on Wednesday’s Mowing The Leaves Instead Of Piling ’em Up. Covering a song from Adore is a real “Pumpkins’ connoisseur” choice.
Billy sucks. I think we can all agree on that. But that record seems like the closest he was ever to resembling a normal guy. He was a little broken on that record, and there’s some deep feelings and just real life stuff happening to him at the time. I think it’s super pretty and sad. I feel like in a way it kind of broke him. He never really did anything that good after that. But Mellon Collie, Siamese Dream, Pisces Iscariot — you name it, I’m there.
With “Perfect,” I just really like the song. It’s a pretty song. The music video really freaked me out when I first saw it, when he is up in the crane. I’m super afraid of heights. And I watched this “behind the scenes” doc for that video and he’s just up there with nothing holding him.
This just occurred to me: In that video, Billy Corgan is wearing this goth-looking cowboy hat. And that seems like a good symbol for the kind of music you make, which is country tunes with heavy, grungy guitars. Does this half-baked music-critic theory hold any water?
I don’t know. [Laughs.] I’ve never worn a cowboy hat.
