Photo of MJ Lenderman by Matt Lynch
MJ Lenderman’s show at The Factory was a twangy Father’s Day catharsis, fitting to the cloudy day in Chesterfield. Lenderman slouched into the spotlight with the shaggy nonchalance he’s known for and opened with “Joker Lips” off his most recent album, last year’s Manning Fireworks. The room was locked in with his slack-rock syrupy tone and drunken, confessional approach to lyrical storytelling. His rapport with the crowd was quite dry and self-effacing, throwing in one-liners with the timing of someone who doesn’t quite believe they’re funny, which of course made them land even harder.
“Wristwatch” was one of the standout moments of Lenderman’s set, a slow-burning, sardonic lament that felt like it cracked something open in the room. Live, the song took on even more of its lopsided charm. Warbly guitars stumbled forward like they’d had one too many, while his vocal delivery hovered in that uncanny space between slacker detachment and deep emotional rot. It’s a song about time—how it drags, how it circles back, how it slips through your fingers even when it’s literally strapped to your wrist—and hearing it live, that theme hit with gut-punch clarity. The repeated lines felt less like a chorus and more like someone whispering the same thought over and over to themselves at a bus stop. When the final chorus unspooled, the band leaned into a kind of shimmering decay, like they weren’t ending the song so much as letting it dissolve.
Lenderman has this ability to make his stumbling, slow-grooving rhythm very hypnotizing and intimate, especially in moments during his ten-minute “Bark at the Moon” where his backing band The Wind’s slow and languid twang ambiently pours through the arena while Lenderman scratches everything he can out of his guitar. Lenderman ended his encore with his somber, contemplative “Knockin’,” an ode to Bob Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” Filtering out into the rainy Missouri night, there was a lingering hush, like everyone was carrying their own little pieces of the set with them. Lenderman didn’t just play songs, He unraveled tangled pieces of heartbreak, humor, and hazy memory, letting us sit in the mess with him. You could tell by the half-smiles, the dazed shuffling towards the exits, and the folks clutching merch like a newfound relic, something real had happened. That’s what makes a night unforgettable. | Matt Lynch

















