Justin Townes Earle, Band On The Wall

Warming up the stage at Manchester’s Band on The Wall is Texan singer-songwriter Andrew Combs, who plays melancholy country-rock love songs. His wistful melodies and crooning vocals are straight out of the Country and Western textbook, but his lyrics (specifically tales of heartbreak) bring his music right back into the present day, and no doubt make several  members of the audience swoon. The acoustic setting makes the set a little samey, but there are definitely a few gems in there.

Justin Townes Earle is not everyone’s idea of a typical country or blues singer; heavily tattooed, bespectacled with hipster-esque glasses and wearing a plaid shirt (okay, that last detail might fit the stereotype at least), he is an immediately fascinating character before he has even opened his mouth. Son of alt Country artist Steve Earle, with a reputation for dabbling with drink and drugs, Earle has expectations both good and bad cast upon him.

White Gardenias is Earle's tribute to Billie Holiday, a singer who he cites as an influence on his vocal style of singing 'between the beats'. Earle resents the image of Holiday as a 'junkie' dominating over the image of her as an artist, something that perhaps he has felt about his own image. His is accompanied by traditional steel stringed guitar as well as a pedal steel, and the beautiful drifting lilt of these instruments immediately transports the listener to Nashville, Tennessee.

Justin sings Ain’t Waitin’, a country-tinged ode to the intense happiness at having everything you love in the right place at the right time with the right person. A perfect image, “as long as you’re not driving” he quips. His set is peppered with his dark wit, although the seriousness of some songs makes it difficult to know when we’re supposed to be laughing.  After a rendition of Memphis in the Rain, Earle notes one interviewer who suggested he uses the weather as a metaphor in his writing, and he explains how rain reminds him of his mother ushering him under the kitchen table during thunder storms. His open and honest approach to his songwriting influences is refreshing, and although not each one is autobiographical, his lyrics have the intimacy of a man with nothing to hide. 

Earle frequently jokes about not being a great guitar player, tuning his guitar incorrectly or being prompted by his accompanist Paul Niehaus. While this can be endearing, it does wear a little thin at times (not that the nonchalant singer would care). After a heartfelt performance of Christchurch Woman, Niehaus leaves the stage to allow Earle to tackle the next part of the set on his own.  He chats more about his family (a recurring theme throughout his work), but is quick to set the record straight about how much of himself he puts into his writing; “[his songs are] Not all about me, not all about my parents...all dope”. 

As Justin Townes Earle comes back on stage for his encore, a heckler who requests their favourite song is stuck down with the cutting words “don’t f*cking tell me what to do”; a riposte typical of his black humour. Instead, the crowd receives an electrifying run through of Harlem River Blues, followed by his mother’s favourite song, a cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams.

Justin Townes Earle is at once wise beyond his years whilst retaining the vulnerability of his younger self. He is somewhat guarded in his approach to his audience, and yet at the same time wears his heart on his sleeve and keeps his scars visible. A truly remarkable artist, and what he lacks in musical prowess he makes up for in soul.