Often compared to Ryan Adams, Alabama’s Jason Isbell has looked set to take up his friend’s mantle as the great hope of American roots and country music. But as he belts out the first few songs at the Enmore in Sydney on Sunday, backed by his powerful band the 400 Unit, you can just as easily compare him to another Adams: namely Bryan.
Isbell, whose recorded output is marked by finely written, often beautiful songs which won him two Grammys in February, seems to be straining to make his voice heard above the booming chords of the bluesy opener Palmetto Rose, and Decoration Day, a track from his days with the Drive-By Truckers.
The crowd seems happy enough to rock out. There are a few hands in the air as Isbell pauses briefly to tell us that they’ll be giving this show, their last of their Australian tour, everything they have
Great. I quite like Bryan Adams so I’m up for this too – but then Isbell takes off his Fender and straps on an acoustic, and the mood of the night changes. Now’re in different territory, where his voice is more effective, not drowned out by the PA.
He fairly rips into The Life You Chose, which explores lost love (“Jack and Coke in your mama’s car. You were reading The Bell Jar”), but the audience is swaying gently rather than punching the air. Traveling Alone misses the accompaniment of his wife, Amanda Shires, on fiddle and backing vocals, but is nevertheless a highlight.
Cover Me Up, perhaps his most Ryan-esque song, is a love song for Shires which he reveals came about before they were married, when they were holed up in a house trying to write songs. When he’d finished writing it, he played it for her. “So girl hang your dress up to dry we ain’t leavin’ this room.” What woman could resist.
Isbell is joined by the band for the closing numbers, including the excellent Speed Trap Town, which wouldn’t have been out of place on Springsteen’s Nebraska, and the poppy but wonderful If it Takes a Lifetime.
The dualing moods of the encore tell the story of the night. Elephant, played solo, is a stunning creation, charting the death of a friend with rare subtlety (“We burn these joints in effigy and cry about what we used to be / And try to ignore the elephant somehow”); while the raucous Super 8, joined once more by his band, is a fitting finale for a southern rocker – if that’s what he wants to be.
