Review: Lucinda Williams, Colston Hall

Statistics I have just made up suggest that during the past six months 72% of those attending concerts in the City centre have missed on average the opening 3 songs of the support act due to the traffic chaos. So it’s frustrating to report that on the evidence of a scant few songs from The Pierce Brothers B247 missed a blinding support slot. A sibling duo from down under, the brothers delivered a boisterous folk racket that echoed fifties rock n roll, tipped a hat to skiffle and was topped off with some exquisite harmonies. Their set up is based on the aftermath of an explosion in a music shop, featuring snare & bass drums; guitars; both identified and unidentified percussion type things; harmonicas and (you guessed it) a whopping gert digeridoo. The show was pretty dynamic with Pat laying down guitar and the back beat whilst Jack drummed, cavorted around the stage and used most of the immediate area as a source of percussion (including the body of his twin’s guitar). Oh and he played the didgeridoo whilst drumming. In fact during one tune he managed to play the didgeridoo, hold a harmonica up for Pat to play and deliver the type of lascivious pelvic thrusts that aren’t normally part and parcel of an Americana Festival. The material was good, up-tempo and catchy, and the guys performed it with an easy demeanour that belied the passion in the delivery. If the rest of the set was as good then they deserve their own slot in the Lantern at next year’s festival.

Lucinda Williams has been at this game for some time, harvesting critical acclaim for her work (and establishment recognition in the shape of a couple of Grammies) as well as a measure of commercial success. Although her career started with a country vibe, over the course of some dozen albums her music has evolved though folk, blues and Americana stylings to arrive at a muscular twangy bluesy rock topped off with her careworn husky semi-slurred vocals. She’s a skilful songwriter too (no surprise given that her father was Miller Williams); topics ranging from affairs of the heart through the human condition to commentary on matters political – exemplified by the opening cut World without Tears dedicated to the victims of the horrendous murder spree in France the previous night.

Williams then proceeded to deliver a career spanning set brimming with warmth, awash with humour and accompanied by a band that was tight but loose – yeah, cliché I know but it does sum up the outfit. Only a supremely drilled group of musicians can play tight in the pocket whist making it look soooo casual. Protection was muscular, aggressive and brooding whilst Drunken Angel shimmered with regret; West Memphis was delivered with real attack, presaged by the tale of a horrendous miscarriage of justice. Williams alternated between acoustic and electric, and discarded the guitar for some tunes too. Ghost of Highway 20 (from the current waxing) was delivered solo and she introduced a skittishly percussive Dust with a tale of how she’d spent fruitless hours trying to set some of her father’s poetry to music. Arguably those hours were far from fruitless as one might say they led to the creation of a stunning piece of work.

Her band were on exemplary form throughout – clearly enjoying themselves and that pleasure fed in to the music. Stuart Mathis was commanding with his guitar work, chugging away with nonchalance and then letting loose some stunning solos – blues heft melded with western twang, lean & clean and an object lesson in less is more. Bass man David Sutton (rocking a spiky do straight from the skate punk fashion book) kept it grooving, pitching in with harmony vox and locking in with the drums. And those drums were supplied by Jonathan Norton, a player with such a commanding touch and funky authority that one could forgive his, um, singular outfit (top half: massive white Stetson, white shirt, black waistcoat and…bottom half: black shorts, white socks n trainers. Yikes).

Penultimate song Foolishness featured Williams adlibbing a whole slew of things that are getting her goat, naturally including Donald Trump: his slating receiving the usual vociferous support from the crowd. Incidentally, hands up anyone who’s been at a gig where any band has supported the fella…hmm, didn’t think so. I guess we won’t be witnessing much love for him until Ted Nugent gets back over here – but no doubt he’s busy napalming panda sanctuaries or bombing vegetarian eateries just now. Joy was a frankly epic conclusion to the main set – an extended version with a wicked danceable groove that vamped on Zep’s Heartbreaker and closed to a standing ovation.

Encore tunes were sanctified, with a shimmering & fulfilling Blessed followed by Get Right with God, Williams and the band testifying as if their lives depended on it, raising the roof with a beautiful gospel work out and topped off with yet another superb solo from Mathis – that cat seemingly able to pull off a zillion solos at the drop of a stetson. This was Williams first time in Bristol, she complimented the city and said she’ll be back sooner or later – let’s hope it’s sooner.

Pix: Chris Cooper