For all intents and purposes, Andy Hull is a man of intense
faith. A burly product of the manicured Atlanta suburb Alpharetta, Hull
fronts Manchester Orchestra like a fiery Southern preacher, holding
audiences hostage with a rapt sense of wonder and deep lyrical purpose.
If the man sings it, he believes it.
But like any good emoting frontman raised in the pews, Hull seems to
treasure the act of keeping his beliefs close to his chest, thus making
Manchester Orchestra either the single most religious band this side of
Cornerstone, or a conflicted secular gathering of those orphaned by the
Holy Spirit. Ranking their spirituality is up to the listener, as the
band’s latest, Mean Everything to Nothing—the follow-up to
their first proper full-length, the surprising I’m Like a Virgin
Losing a Child—teeters that fine line between worldly
confidence and religious curiosity. Much like how David Bazan turned
Pedro the Lion into a rancorous mouthpiece for belief alongside a
detracting sense of faith, Hull balances the two; one foot propped
between the gates of Heaven, the other on secular dry land.
The success that has loyally followed Manchester Orchestra in their
brief—yet triumphant—run can be traced to the fervent vocal
delivery of Hull, and a band that takes the volatile emo-for-the-masses
leanings of acts like Brand New, and intertwines them with In the
Aeroplane over the Sea-era Neutral Milk Hotel. It’s a potent mix of
fleeting pop pleasure alongside a deep-rooted sense of importance, a
high-wire act that few bands could mirror, much less pull off with such
grace. All lack of creative drive that is synonymous with small-town
Christianity is erased by influences—the band name is an homage
to the Smiths, their signature style of visual album art a respectful
Guy Maddin-esque presentation of blurry recreated reality—which
stretch far beyond the fringes of the Bible Belt.
More so than is expected of a songwriter in his early 20s, Hull
divulges with restraint in songs like the overwhelmingly tragic “I Can
Feel a Hot One” (“To pray for what I thought were angels/Ended up being
ambulances/And the Lord showed me dreams of my daughter/She was crying
inside your stomach”), or the spiritual panic of “In My Teeth” (“What
happens when I don’t know what happens?”). This gift, to both reveal so
little and mask so much, is reason enough to believe in Manchester
Orchestra. A little faith won’t kill you.
eff yeah!