Reviewed on Thursday April 16
It turns out there’s a bit of a fine line between confidence and indifference. Justin Townes Earle is a remarkable songwriter, and without the backing of a band he does a truly commendable job painting a sad but striking canvas up there. But as good as he could be – and man, this guy can deliver moments that cut through the selfie-saturated crowd like a knife through water – there was never that sense of crafting something unique between audience and performer. He was strong without seeming invested, and while I admit it may sound like I’m anticipating more metaphysics than is really fair, I couldn’t help but feel that for Earle, this was just another soon-to-be-forgotten gig on the road to wider things.
It wasn’t for lack of variety. This is a man who who freakin’ loves his Americana, and between a smattering of classic covers (of which some work better than others – his encore rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’ was exceptional) his set took in a great deal of his catalogue. This despite his wry admission that he tends not to take song requests from the crowd, because his memory is so shot that he forgets those that aren’t fresh.
In fact, outside of the music itself, Earle’s comic asides and sharp, amusing homilies (don’t even get him started on the corruption of Nashville) were the true standout. Between his set’s strongest additions – tunes like ‘Christchurch Woman’, ‘Rogers Park’, ‘Today And A Lonely Night’, ‘Mama’s Eyes’ and ‘One More Night In Brooklyn’, which had the floor reverberating from so many tapping feet – his observations on music and the world at large were the moments most memorable. “We lose more than we win in this life. Those people who are walkin’ on sunshine, how they fucking do it I don’t know. A song shouldn’t feel better than you do.”
Clever quips aside, there was nothing very unique about the gig, and in all honesty, why should there have been? Perhaps I’ve simply become too rapacious in my audience appetite, and expect more than I deserve. But oh, how I would have loved to have walked away awestruck by Earle – humming tunes under my breath, reeling from certain lines of lyric. Instead, we simply agreed that he was pretty good, and ambled across to the pool table.
