My Morning Jacket - MMJ Live Vol. 4: Terminal 5 - NYC - The Tennessee Fire 10/18/10 (3LP) - Red Vinyl

My Morning Jacket’s Terminal 5 run in October 2010 already sits in fan lore, that week-long New York victory lap where the band took one album a night and played it front to back. MMJ Live Vol. 4 captures opening night, The Tennessee Fire, and it does more than tick a box for completists. It puts you in the room. You can feel the hush before the first chords hit, the loose chatter rolling across the floor at Terminal 5, and then that familiar swell of reverb that made their 1999 debut feel like it was recorded inside a weathered church and a basement at the same time.

Hearing The Tennessee Fire in sequence with the 2010 lineup is a little mind warp in the best way. Jim James, Tom Blankenship, Patrick Hallahan, Carl Broemel, and Bo Koster had been a seasoned road unit for years by then, which means the songs that began as ghostly four-track meditations now arrive with a sturdy spine and a wider palette. The opener moves with patience, and then “The Bear” lands like a postcard from the band’s past, reimagined with the benefit of muscle memory and a thousand gigs of dynamics. Koster’s organ gives it a halo, and Broemel’s guitar answers Jim’s vocal with small, singing phrases that never grandstand.

“Evelyn Is Not Real” still sprints, but there’s a tighter snap in Hallahan’s drums, the kind of pocket that only grows after years of touring. “Old Sept. Blues” turns the room into a slow wave, the reverb pushed just enough to make it shimmer without losing clarity. “I Will Be There When You Die,” one of the starkest moments on the studio record, is still a heart-stiller here. You can hear the crowd quiet itself as James leans into the melody. No studio tricks, no window dressing, just breath and guitar and the slight lift of the band when it counts.

The deep cut glow-up belongs to “War Begun.” Live, the song stretches, smolders, and finds extra corners to explore. Broemel and James step into a patient duel that never spills into noodling, and Blankenship keeps the center steady. This is the joy of an archival release that knows its audience. The Tennessee Fire was a mood as much as a record, and this set bottle-feeds that mood through a band at full control of its power. You hear the naivete that made the debut special, but you also get the swagger of a group that can pull off an entire-residency stunt in a cavernous New York venue and make it feel intimate.

A quick word for the sonics. The MMJ Live series has been consistently strong, and Vol. 4 is no exception. The mix favors space and air, lets the room breathe, and keeps the vocals forward without burying the low end. On MMJ Live Vol. 4: Terminal 5 - NYC - The Tennessee Fire 10/18/10 vinyl, the reverb blooms in a way that flatters the material, cymbals decay naturally, and the quiet sections don’t get lost in the crowd noise. If you collect My Morning Jacket vinyl, this one sits nicely next to the earlier volumes, a time capsule with the edges intact.

The cultural footnote matters too. That Terminal 5 run became a marker for how gutsy and generous this band can be, and critics took notice at the time. Playing five nights, five albums, and digging into b-sides and era-appropriate encores felt like a love letter to the faithful. This volume homes in on the night where it all started, the one that made The Tennessee Fire feel current again. It reminds you how many seeds were planted on that debut. The melodic sense that would bloom on It Still Moves, the widescreen dreams they chased on Z, the blend of tenderness and thunder that keeps fans coming back.

If you’re crate-digging at a Melbourne record store, or scrolling through vinyl records Australia late at night, this is the kind of live set that jumps out because it tells a full story. You can spin side one for the mood and leave it on while you cook, or lean in with headphones and chase every echo into the rafters. For anyone looking to buy My Morning Jacket records online, consider this an easy add. It’s a reminder that the band’s archival work isn’t just housekeeping. It’s curation with a fan’s ear.

My Morning Jacket albums on vinyl tend to reward repeat plays, and this one rewards memory too. You hear 1999 meet 2010, the bedroom lo-fi songwriter meeting the road-tested five piece, and the crowd in New York acting as a bridge. That’s the magic captured here. Not pristine perfection, but the feeling of being there on a Monday night in Manhattan when a beloved debut grew up on stage and still kept its glow.