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.
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