![John Moreland](https://images.discovery-prod.axs.com/2024/05/uploadedimage_663532f7a1e5c.jpg)
Neumos Presents
John Moreland
Justin Bloss
Sep 12
Doors: 7:00 PM
21 & Over
Sep 12, 2024
-
DateSep 12, 2024
-
Doors Open7:00 PM
-
VenueNeumos
-
Ticket Prices$27.00 - $30.00
-
On SaleOn Sale Now
-
Ages21 & Over
John
Moreland
doesn’t
have
the
answers,
and
he’s
not
sure
anyone
does.
But
he’
s
still
curious,
basking
in
the
comfort
of
a
question,
and
along
the
way,
those
of
us
listening
feel
moved
to
ask
our
own.
“I
don’t
ever
want
to
sound
like
I
have
answers,
because
I
don’t,”
he
says.
“These
songs
are
all
questions.
Everything
I
write
is
jus
t
trying
to
figure
stuff
out.”
Moreland
is
discussing
his
new
album
Birds
in
the
Ceiling
,
a
nine
-
song
collection
that
offers
the
most
comprehensive
insight
into
the
thoughts
and
sounds
swimming
around
in
his
head
to
date.
A
compelling
blend
of
acoustic
folk
and
avant
-
garde
pop
playfulness,
Birds
in
the
Ceiling
lives
confidently
in
a
space
of
its
own,
enriched
by
tradition
but
never
encumbered
by
it.
The
songwriting
that
has
stunned
fans
and
critics
alike
since
2015’s
High
on
Tulsa
Heat
remains
p
otent,
while
the
sonic
evolution
that
unfolds
on
the
record
feels
like
a
natural
expansion
of
2020’s
acclaimed
LP5
.
The
New
Yorker
,
Pitchfork
,
Fresh
Air
,
Paste
,
GQ
,
and
others
have
embraced
Moreland’s
meditative
songs,
while
performances
on
The
Late
Show
with
Stephen
Colbert
,
CBS
This
Morning
,
NPR
Tiny
Desk
Concert
,
and
more
have
introduced
Moreland
to
millions.
And
yet,
while
the
Tulsa
-
based
Moreland
is
grateful
for
the
respect
and
musical
conversation
he’s
now
having
with
people
around
the
world,
he
is
also
more
focused
on
the
idea
of
just
talking
to
one
person
–
–
or
even
himself.
“Through
the
years,
I’ve
felt
like
I
’
m
increasingly
talking
to
myself
in
my
songs,
more
and
more,”
he
says.
“Maybe
in
the
past,
I
wasn’t
aware
of
it,
but
now,
I
am.
I
think
doing
that
has
helped
me
be
less
hard
on
myself,
which
makes
you
more
generous
and
compassionate
in
general.”
That
helps
explain
why
even
if
Moreland
is
reaching
out
to
someone
else,
there
is
no
judgment.
“I’m
in
the
same
boat
with
whoever
I’m
talking
to,”
Mo
reland
says.
Moreland’s
songs
do
feel
intimate
––
like
overheard
conversations
or
solitary
meditations.
“I
want
to
talk
one
-
on
-
one
to
someone
in
a
song,”
he
says.
“I
don’t
want
to
address
a
group,
really,
because
I
think
that’s
when
it’s
easy
to
start
pon
tificating
––
and
it
gets
less
honest.”
On
Birds
in
the
Ceiling
,
Moreland’s
singing
contributes
to
the
feelings
of
hushed
intimacy.
Wielding
a
warm,
sandpaper
soul
voice,
Moreland
got
used
to
singing
loudly
as
he
began
playing
in
bars,
fighting
to
be
heard
over
chattering
crowds.
“When
I
first
started
singing,
I
was
very
self
-
conscious
about
it,”
he
says.
“I
think
I
tried
to
affect
my
voice
more.
Singing
loud
could
be
a
security
blanket
sometimes.
On
the
new
album,
on
a
lot
of
the
songs
I
was
definitely
mak
ing
a
conscious
effort
to
sing
quieter
––
almost
whisper.”
Produced
by
Matt
Pence
and
Moreland
,
Birds
in
the
Ceiling
is
dynamic:
a
folk
record
that
refuses
to
stay
in
its
lane.
It’s
the
second
album
for
Pence
with
Moreland,
who
sees
the
former
––
a
Denton,
Texas
-
based
engineer,
producer,
and
drummer
––
as
an
ideal
musical
partner.
“We
have
a
lot
of
the
same
influences,
and
I
have
been
really
influenced
by
his
bands,”
Moreland
says.
“It
feels
really
effortless.”
JohnMoreland-BITC-Bio_Final.pdf
Album
opener
“Ugly
Faces”
establishes
the
new
instrumental
ground
Moreland
is
covering:
piano
and
acoustic
guitar
are
joined
by
drum
break
and
percussive
electronic
chirps
then
swells
as
Moreland’s
familiar
voice
delivers
questions,
observations,
and
apologies.
“I
got
used
to
shutting
off
part
s
of
myself
and
feeling
like,
‘Well,
I’m
this
kind
of
artist,
so
this
part
of
me
and
that
part
of
me
don’t
fit
––
I’m
going
to
leave
them
out,”
Moreland
says
of
the
record’s
arrangements.
“On
this
album,
I
really
just
wanted
to
throw
that
rule
out
completely
.
Anything
I’m
into
or
that
has
moved
me
is
fair
game.”
Cue
90s
roots
pop:
Moreland
mentions
Sarah
McLachlan
and
Sheryl
Crow
as
influences,
then
points
to
the
pioneering
sampling
from
the
80s
and
90s,
as
well
as
the
hooks
of
Janet
Jackson.
“I
feel
like
I’m
old
enough
now
to
say,
‘I
love
pop,’”
he
says
––
then
laughs
a
little.
“Lion’s
Den”
underscores
the
pop
point:
A
mathy
electronic
beat
kicks
off
the
song
before
Moreland’s
gorgeous
acoustic
guitar
playing,
nimble
but
lush,
sweeps
listeners
away.
The
lyric
s
explore
feelings
of
displacement
and
connection
––
then
disconnection.
“I
think
most
of
the
album
lyrically
is
about
alienation
and
isolation
––
really
about
what
my
wife
and
I
were
going
through
during
the
pandemic,”
Moreland
says.
“Not
really
relating
to
t
he
pandemic
itself
so
much,
but
just
the
circumstances
we
were
both
going
through
with
family
and
friends,
which
was
all
colored
through
this
terrifying,
dystopian
lens.”
Crunchy
drum
machine
claps
give
way
to
menacing
acoustic
guitar
on
“Cheap
Idols
Dr
essed
in
Expensive
Garbage."
Moreland
wrote
the
song
after
a
friend
introduced
him
to
a
social
media
account
that
highlights
pastors
wearing
designer
clothes.
“It
feels
like
things
just
continue
to
get
harder
for
working
people,"
he
says.
“It’s
hard
to
aff
ord
life
these
days.”
Moreland
points
to
“Generational
Dust”
––
a
moving
portrait
of
the
complicated
relationship
with
roots
and
place
––
as
an
album
favorite.
A
gentle
showcase
of
Moreland’
s
accomplished
acoustic
guitar
playing,
“Dim
Little
Light”
taps
into
the
bigness
of
universal
connection
and
the
smallness
of
individual
perspective.
While
Moreland
no
longer
considers
himself
religious,
the
concepts
and
language
picked
up
during
his
Bible
Belt
upbringing
emerge
in
his
songs,
recast
in
new,
independent
musings
about
self
-
acceptance,
honest
questions,
and
hope
––
but
never
as
answers.
“
“
At
this
point
in
my
life,
I'm
quite
comfortable
with
the
mystery
of
it
all,”
Moreland
says.
“Claim
Your
Pri
ze”
packs
a
heartbreaking
punch,
tucked
into
upbeat
guitar
strums
and
a
mournful
chorus.
Moreland’s
guitar
playing
stands
out
throughout
the
record.
“I
wanted
to
expand
my
guitar
playing
on
this
album,”
he
says.
“I
played
all
the
guitars,
and
I
just
wanted
to
approach
it
with
more
compositional
intent.”
The
beautiful
“Neon
Middle
June”
explores
the
connection
that
deepened
between
Moreland
and
his
wife
during
the
pandemic,
when
they
were
“holed
up
together,
home
all
the
time,
and
it
was
just
weird
and
lovel
y.”
Pianist
John
Calvin
Abney’s
jaw
-
dropping
arrangement
and
playing
happened
by
chance:
He
sat
down
to
warm
up
for
the
song
in
the
studio,
not
realizing
tape
was
rolling.
The
freewheeling,
abstract
keys
perfect
the
song’s
lovely
weirdness.
The
album’s
t
itle
track
is
the
graceful
closer,
pensive,
breathtaking,
and
brimming
with
hope
and
gratitude.
“The
last
verse
is
really
about
learning
not
to
impose
your
own
essences
and
projections
onto
things,
and
to
just
let
things
be
what
they
are,”
Moreland
says.
Letting
things
just
be
what
they
are
is
a
powerful
guiding
force
for
Moreland,
determining
not
just
how
he
interacts
with
others,
but
how
he
treats
himself.
“When
you
remove
boundaries
and
instead
of
holding
back
parts
of
yourself
––
when
you
say,
‘Okay,
I’
m
going
to
put
all
of
me
into
this,’”
Moreland
says,
"You
end
up
making
music
that
nobody
else
could
make.”
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