Courtesy The Riverside Theater
After releasing the transcendent, surrealist folk album In the Aeroplane Over the Sea in 1998, frontman Jeff Mangum quietly disbanded Neutral Milk Hotel and mainly faded from view. His cult status grew after he suffered a nervous breakdown shortly thereafter—reportedly hoarding food items for the impending Y2K chaos—as he seemingly followed in the line of great artistic minds that became too overcome with mental instability to continue their promising musical career. Over the next 15 years, a generation of young fans discovered the seminal record, gravitating toward the visceral despair in Mangum’s voice and the fanciful horn arrangements that felt unearthed from another time. His legend only grew.
To his cadre of followers, Mangum has become something of a spiritual figure, and his return was often prophesized. But even when every ’90s band was reuniting, the reclusive Mangum always remained the exception. So, it was truly a surprise when Mangum embarked on a solo tour in 2012, which included a stop in Milwaukee, and then decided to bring the whole band back together for another run.
Friday night at a sold-out Riverside Theater, Neutral Milk Hotel, on its last tour “for the foreseeable future,” granted the wish of every superfan that had hoped, prayed and endlessly blogged for a return. But when Mangum finally took the stage, he looked worn from the years away. With long hair and a thick, greying beard he, fittingly, appeared like he had just emerged from an isolated stay inside a cave. Mangum never really addressed the audience. Those duties where fulfilled by multi-instrumentalist and goofball side-kick Julian Koster, the most animated person on stage, who wore track pants, a red cardigan and a long blue wool hat. He also added the ancillary folk elements to the band’s sound, playing the banjo, accordion or singing saw when necessary.
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While Mangum remained off-to-the-side both literally and figuratively, Neutral Milk Hotel’s performance still radiated with catharsis and satisfaction. The selections from In the Aeroplane Over the Sea held the most gravity over the crowd, as they ambled through the strange lyrical patterns of “Oh, Comely,” or shouted an affectation to a religious savior on “King of Carrot Flowers, Part One.” The songs didn’t sound any better than the recordings—“Holland, 1945” in particular lacked the punch of the original—but the experience was still worth the price of admission.
