Union Chapel, London
"Five years ago, I didn't think I'd be doing this," says Jeff Mangum, perched on a stool, skinny and intense. In that respect he is not alone. In 1999, shortly after Neutral Milk Hotel released their much-mythologised second album, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, the band's frontman abruptly retired. During the subsequent decade of rumours and wishful thinking, younger admirers all but gave up hope of hearing those songs live, until Mangum had an unexpected change of heart last year.
Perhaps it is the sense that someone absent so long should be handled with care that explains the audience's initial reverential hush. Or perhaps they are simply startled into silence. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea became cult material because Mangum invested his dense, cryptic tales of Anne Frank and carnival freaks with such uncanny emotional intensity, and he still plays these songs like they're a matter of life and death. His voice, like his guitar-playing, is wired and astringent, and so loud it pins you to the wall. "You guys have been a polite bunch so far," he teases. "Politer than I deserve."
Rivetingly raw on his own, he makes shrewd use of guest musicians. Former bandmate Julian Koster adds the eerie keening of his musical saw to a couple of songs, while a ramshackle marching band parades down the aisle to enhance the climax of Two-Headed Boy. During The King of Carrot Flowers Pts Two & Three, Mangum stops playing for a moment and invites a chapel full of people to join his hair-raising a cappella cry of "Jesus Christ I love you, yes I do!"
But you get the impression that he wouldn't be truly satisfied until people were rending their garments and speaking in tongues. Towards the end of his hour-long set, he asks, "You guys don't have anything to throw?" One fan shouts, "Respect!" Mangum shrugs. Respect is fine, but indie rock's emotional extremist still wants more.