Honing in on 25, I’ve spent the better half of my early twenties figuring out life smack in the middle of Austin, Texas. I eagerly traded my Southern California roots and flip-flops in for shit kickers and parking lot Lone Stars. It’s been the best 4 years of my life, but I wasted no time getting busy and making mistakes, especially in the world of dating. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you what a nightmare the pursuit of romance is in this city- if one more Hinge asshole tells me they “love my vibe” and are “happily poly and partnered”- I will probably end it all. I once imagined love or looking for it with rose-colored glasses but, like so many young women in this town, inevitably came to find it through far less ideal circumstances. I’ve chased musicians up and down 6th street, shared disgusting, five dollar cigarettes in back alleys, and been passenger princess [read: idiot] to more than a handful of boys who are “no, seriously, totally okay to drive.” While these are amongst some of the lower choices I’ve made, I still visit them from time to time. Music has always been my entry point into understanding myself and the world, and while my relationship with it has changed over the years– I continue to find solace in the connections I create with lyrics, artists, and the people who make music. This year for me, what stuck was MJ Lenderman.

MJ Lenderman is every 20-something indie girl's cult-favorite boyfriend (and I can’t pardon myself from this claim). Apart from the Asheville-based band Wednesday, Lenderman has gone on to make four solo records. His 2022 breakout, Boat Songs, put MJ’s solo career on the map and served as the perfect foundation for his latest, Manning Fireworks. Manning Fireworks is a testament to Lenderman’s ability to craft poignant, understated tracks that resonate with his listeners who have come to appreciate his wry songwriting style. Lenderman creates a world in Manning Fireworks where simple, everyday experiences are elevated through a mix of biting sarcasm and nostalgic reverence. Whether it’s an allusion to a half-mast McDonald’s flag transporting you to the scene of your most uncomfortable breakup or his deeply unserious references to Guitar Hero and Lightning McQueen, Lenderman paints himself as the loveable loser we all know- and the one I’m all too fond of.

EVERY INDIE GIRL'S CULT FAVORITE BOYFRIEND.

The North Carolina native also pulls from many Southern cultural influences. His single "She's Leaving You" takes the lyrics “Believe that Clapton was the second coming” and instantly transports me back to dirty sheets and cigarettes out the window under a generic headshop poster of Eric Clapton for the better part of a year (I know). This villain — with his own North Carolina roots — wooed me with Southern slang disguised as manners and sang about the rhythm of a place I barely understood, yet longed to belong to. With Clapton’s eyes watching over us and an unregistered firearm in the closet, I naively believed I was closer to love than ever before (I know!). Typing this out, I see the irony and cringe with embarrassment but can’t neglect the mess it left me with. When that relationship ended I lost myself in a cryptic Spotify playlist I made complete with the best of Marcus King, George Strait, and Little Feat- great artists, but the playlist lacked one crucial element: me

Now, I’m not not a country fan, and since then, I’ve grown to love the genre even more—but on my terms. Back then, I didn’t need Willie, George, or Waylon to hold my hand; I needed therapy and a healthy dose of devastating indie folk and shoegaze to help me realize that the only person I truly missed was myself. And yes, I cringe at the thought, but it’s the truth. Lost in this unfamiliar haze, I was eager to climb my way out. Looking for a touchstone back to my roots, MJ was a beacon of light. I found catharsis in the middle ground of his lyrics and character. Healing alongside the cult-favorite boyfriend, his lyrics could strike a chord yet meet me right where I was at. He’s the kind of guy who certainly owned a gigantic bong at one point in his life but writes prolifically with a spiritual purpose. Sharing a Catholic upbringing, I found “mass” and humor in his snide Catholic innuendos. Lines like, "I wouldn't be in the seminary if I could be with you" from Rudolph made me feel particularly comforted in my “Shit, life is so bad… should I fuck around and go back to church” phase. Though this phase was short-lived, I appreciate any opportunity to resonate with anyone who knows the specific kind of unbearable Catholic guilt is when you’re riddled with it as an adult.

After ruining the healthy self-work I had done up until that point, it’s been a long road back to knowing, loving, and forgiving myself. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, approaching my mid twenties I’ve found it best to revisit my roots and cope with humor wherever possible, which is what led me to MJ Lenderman. He doesn’t try to make you feel better but rather makes you feel seen in your mess. A mess that he and I and so, so many unfortunate others find relatable. Tracks like “You Don’t Know The Shape I’m In” and “You are Every Girl To Me” capture the essence of a late-night, wine-forward conversation with friends-laughing and crying about where we are and just how far it is from where we’d thought we’d be. Yet, somehow, I always walk away feeling more at peace which is difficult for most these days.

That being said, growing up isn’t about finding some perfect, polished version of yourself or trying to avoid heartbreak and mistakes. It’s about accepting them when they come, learning to laugh at them when the pain subsides, and, taking one more page out of MJ’s book, crushing some drinks with your friends while you’re at it.