On the Stereo, 9-6-24: MJ Lenderman, David Gilmour, George Strait

A short week was truncated even further by my wife bringing home Covid as souvenir from her work trip. Here's what I've managed to absorb this week.

MJ Lenderman—Manning Fireworks (2024)

A mighty guitarist who doubles as a nuanced songwriter, MJ Lenderman consciously accepts the baton passed from Neil Young to J Mascis. Lenderman reversed engineered his slackerdom, delving into the past after learning its contours through Wilco, Will Oldham and My Morning Jacket. He litters Manning Fireworks with classic rock allusions that feel hand-me-downs: they suit his purposes but the fit is slightly shabby. Then again, Lenderman's appeal is how he strikes a lackadaisical chord, luxuriating in how electric guitars smack off strummed acoustics. His approach is so casual, his drawl so fey, that it's easy to overlook the precision of the lyrics, which isn’t a bad thing when the guitars sound so good. Manning Fireworks is pretty much the definition of a grower. The melodies don’t hit especially hard, there’s not much variation in its sepia tone, neither of which matter: this is a mood record whose vibe never wavers, not even when it fades out in a feedback runout groove.

David Gilmour—Luck and Strange (2024)

It's an accident of the calendar that Luck and Strange, David Gilmour's first album in nine years, arrives on the date that happens to be the 81st birthday of Roger Waters. Gilmour can't seem to escape the shadow of Waters, his former Pink Floyd bandmate who still manages to suck all the oxygen out of a room in this late date of 2024, yet the music on Luck and Strange makes it clear the guitarist is comfortable within himself in a way his ex-partner never could be. That sense of acceptance seems to derive from a healthy, loving relationship with his family with novelist Polly Samson, his chief lyrical collaborator since The Division Bell. During COVID-19 lockdowns, the Gilmours held streaming concerts, tapping into a communal feel that's expanded throughout Luck and Strange. As always, mortality isn't far from Gilmour's mind yet there's no existential dread rippling throughout the album. When the late Richard Wright surfaces on the "original Barn Jam" of "Luck and Strange" that serves as a coda to the album, his presence isn't ghostly; it feels as if Gilmour is cherishing a particular bond he had with a departed friend. Gilmour's warm feelings aren't directed merely in a backward direction. Throughout Luck and Strange, he seems grateful that he has a chance to make music with his family, thrilled that he can find new ways to revisit familiar themes, to find light within the darkness. 

George Strait—Cowboys and Dreamers (2024)

Our most reliable record maker makes a reliably pleasing record, albeit one that comes close to floating away on a gentle breeze. That lightness is appealing on the defactor Jimmy Buffett tribute "MIA Down in MIA" and even "Three Drinks Behind"—a drinking anthem for sports bars, not saloons—but the Chris Stapleton duet "Honky Tonk Hall of Fame" makes you wish the rest of the record has a little more grit. 

Mercury Rev—Born Horses (2024)

An after-hours jazz meditation where the nearly-recited melodies are part of the tapestry. 

Faces—Faces at the BBC: Complete BBC Concert & Session Recordings 1970-1973  (2024; 1970-1973)

More on this next week but this collection of every existing BBC recording by the Faces confirms that whenever they're playing, they sound like the greatest rock & roll band that ever was or every will be. 

Unheard but On My Radar: 

The Deslondes—Roll it Out

The Heavy Heavy—One of a Kind

Paris Hilton—Infinite Icon

Hinds—Viva Hinds

LL Cool J—TheFORCE

Shovels & Rope—Something is Working Up Above My Head

Nancy Sinatra—Nancy in London [Light in the Attic]