Two Years On, MJ Lenderman’s Lovable Losers on Manning Fireworks Haven’t Lost Their Spark

MJ Lenderman’s Manning Fireworks is a record about people who keep fumbling the ball and keep getting back up. Across nine tracks, the songwriter turns broken hearts, bruised egos, and half-baked plans into something funny, tender, and genuinely moving. It is not a concept album about losers, exactly, but it is a portrait gallery of them — and Lenderman clearly loves every one of his subjects, even when he is laughing at them.

Two years on from its release, the album stands as the strongest statement of his career so far. It is a confident, sharply written record that pairs wiry guitar with deadpan storytelling, and it justifies the attention Lenderman’s profile has attracted on the back of his solo work and his band Wednesday. This is a songwriter finding his voice in real time, and the results are hard to shake.

The Fireworks of the Title Track

The record opens with its title track, “Manning Fireworks,” a slow-burning tune that sets the tone for everything that follows. Lenderman sings about a man who has made a mess of things, name-checking the specifics of a life gone sideways with a kind of wry affection. The guitar work is unhurried, letting the lyrics do the heavy lifting. It is a smart opener, one that promises wit and delivers it.

The narrator here is the first of many “lovable losers” who populate the record. He is not a hero, but he is not a villain either. He is just someone who keeps making the same mistakes, and Lenderman treats him with a compassion that keeps the song from feeling cruel. The title track works because it establishes this balance early: the jokes land, but they never undercut the humanity.

Joker Lips and Rudolph

“Joker Lips” follows with a more playful edge. The track is built on a looser, more ramshackle groove, and Lenderman’s delivery is closer to a shrug than a sneer. It is a song about attraction and trouble, about the pull of someone who is probably bad news. The guitar lines cut through the mix with a purpose that matches the lyrical tension.

“Rudolph” shifts the mood again, slowing things down and letting the narrator wallow a little. It is a song about being left behind, about watching someone move on while you stay stuck. Lenderman does not overplay the sadness; he lets the details do the work. The song’s title feels like a small joke — a reference to the reindeer who was excluded — but the emotion underneath is real. It is a quiet highlight, one that shows his range as a writer.

Wristwatch and She’s Leaving You

“Wristwatch” is where the record starts to click into a higher gear. The song is a meditation on time and regret, built around a narrator who is acutely aware of what he has wasted. Lenderman’s guitar playing here is more insistent, pushing the track forward with a nervous energy that matches the subject matter. The lyrics are specific and funny, but they carry a weight that lingers.

“She’s Leaving You” is the centerpiece. It is the longest track before the closing epic, and Lenderman uses the space to build a full portrait of a relationship falling apart. The song is told from the perspective of someone watching a friend or acquaintance lose what they had, and the narrator’s detachment is both funny and sad.

The guitar work is some of the best on the album, with a solo that feels earned rather than flashy. It is a song about failure that never feels defeatist, and it is the clearest sign yet that Lenderman has become a premier storyteller of broken hearts and bruised egos.

Rip Torn and You Don’t Know the Shape I’m In

“Rip Torn” is a strange, wonderful detour. Named after the actor, the song has a swagger that sets it apart from the rest of the record. It is a character study, another portrait of a man who is not quite getting it right, but there is a confidence in the performance that makes it feel alive. The title is a joke, but the song is not a punchline. It is one of the more immediately catchy tracks here, and it shows Lenderman can do more than mope.

“You Don’t Know the Shape I’m In” returns to the slower, more reflective mode of the album’s early stretch. The narrator is worn down, exhausted by his own choices, and Lenderman delivers the lines with a weariness that feels earned. The song does not offer a solution; it just sits with the feeling. It is a reminder that this record is not about triumph. It is about survival, and sometimes survival is just admitting where you are.

On My Knees and Bark at the Moon

“On My Knees” has a pleading quality, a narrator who is desperate and not ashamed to show it. Lenderman’s vocal performance is the strongest on the album here, cracking with emotion in a way that feels unforced. The guitar work is restrained, letting the voice carry the weight. It is a song about humility, about asking for something you are not sure you deserve.

The closer, “Bark at the Moon,” is the record’s boldest move. It is a sprawling, ambitious track that takes its time getting anywhere. The track builds slowly, layering guitars and atmosphere until it reaches a peak that feels earned. It is a risk, and it pays off. The length never feels like padding. It feels like Lenderman letting the song breathe, and it closes the album on a note of quiet triumph.

The Strength of the Whole

What holds Manning Fireworks together is its consistency. The record sounds like one person’s vision, executed with clarity and purpose. There is no filler here, and the tracks that do not hit the same heights as the best moments still deepen the portrait of the lovable losers Lenderman is drawing.

That is a minor note, not a complaint. A record this consistent can afford tracks that are merely good. The strength of the whole is what matters, and Manning Fireworks is remarkably cohesive.

The Verdict

Manning Fireworks is a leap forward for MJ Lenderman. It is witty and sincere, the mark of a songwriter finding his voice. It is also an indie-rock gem with ace storytelling, the kind of record that rewards attention and gets better with each listen. The influences are visible — Neil Young, the Drive-By Truckers, the whole lineage of ragged, literate rock — but Lenderman has made something that feels like his own.

Lenderman lives up to his rising indie stardom, and Manning Fireworks confirms his status as a premier storyteller of broken hearts and bruised egos.

That assessment, from Paste Magazine, holds up. The album confirms his status as one of the most interesting songwriters working today. It is not perfect, but it is close. The small flaws are easy to forgive when the highs are this high.

That is the truth of it. The record is funny, sad, and honest, and it does not waste a minute. It is a portrait of people who keep failing, and it makes you root for them anyway.

album review · guitar rock · indie rock · MJ Lenderman · Wednesday band