Anthony Mehlhaff Photo—The Manx

Anthony Mehlhaff Photo Column—The Manx

Jan 23, 2021

The heroes journey but on acid and just a dollop of fentanyl.

dead of COVID 19, and Los Angeles is the epicenter of the virus that doesn’t seem to be slowing down. But there is some good news, like maybe, (fingers crossed) maybe live shows will be back in the fall, via Dr. Fauci. I wouldn’t hold my breath, but still. A little hope or whatever.

All that garbage aside, this isn’t about the madness of the planet. It’s about the madness of these slug dudes. I’ve been photographing The Manx—a jolly schizophrenics’ Technicolor sabbatical of the wondering mind—now for several years, and their latest sharp musical advancement.

As a band that started as an avant-garde folk company that has played in the pop, alt, and even “world music” worlds, they’re now diving into the deep end of the punk world. Get ready for a code-brown pool cola.

With their last release on bandmate Tommy’s label Sweatband Records, their sound has never been more stripped down and meat red. This steak could walk off your dinner plate, hop on a train, and hobo across the country it’s so raw—and I fucking love it. If ya don’t like fun or original musical stylings, stay the fuck outta here, bro-berry-boo.

This photo is from the newest Manx visual masterpiece and this time introduces a new villainous wrongdoer to the striking and vibrant world of magical creatures and unexplainable mucilaginous soundscapes. So slap on some mango ChapStick, open your mind and your mouth, and suck on this. I give you, The Manx.