It turned out I got to the Borderline for this sold out show rather too early as I'd have been far better off if I'd never seen JOSH BEARD. Why? Well, they were frankly awful. They may well be highly rehearsed and appeared to account for half the audience but I don't want to have to suffer a band who seem to be pitching themselves at the sort of folk who think Snow Patrol and Keane are a bit too dangerous for them.
They were wimpy in the extreme. Yes, the harmonies worked but I had no interest whatsoever in the drivel they came out with about painted clouds and Alaska. If they are on a bill at a gig you're going to, get there after they have played or leave before they come on.
Next on was GAVIN JAMES: a poor misguided Irish chap who seems to be trying to fill the gap between Damien Dempsey and Newton Faulkener and failing miserably. Yes, he can just about play his acoustic guitar and he can just about sing but damn I wanted to throw my beer at him rather than listen. I know it wasn't about that sort of incidence but I imagine he is Nervous about just that sort of reaction.
The high spot of his set was when he announced he was playing a new song that didn't have a title yet and made the mistake of asking the audience for suggestions. The best one I heard was "Insipid Shit in a Different Tempo" which just about summed him up. When he announced a sing-along on something called Story of A Lonely Heart I decided it was time to step outside into the cold until he was done. I was not alone outside with people driven out by his drivel.
After the torture of the support acts, it was a blessed relief when it was finally time for JOHN MURRY to take the stage looking somewhat healthier than the last time I saw him 6 years ago just after a notorious incident in Glasgow when he was touring with Bob Frank. That day, the heroin they thought they had scored turned out to be cocaine and they were none too pleased about it.
In the intervening years he has put out another excellent album with Bob Frank - the criminally underrated Brinkley Arkansas - and also managed to clean up his act and survive a near fatal illness. He's channelled his thoughts on this into his current album The Graceless Age.
Now while John may play up to the image he has as a damaged, drug crazed lunatic it isn't what makes this set so captivating. That feat is achieved by just how well written and played the songs are, from the opening Photograph: a song that was more than capable of making the last of Josh Beard's fans run screaming for the exit as this music was far too heavy with meaning for them to take.
John's band more than ably created an air of despair mixed with danger for Miss Magdalene while our hero did his best to play up to his image and complained that everyone goes on about how out there he is. But not so out there to be unable to play a tight set like this. The Ballad Of The Pajama Kid that opens The Graceless Age was next and sounded more heartfelt live as the band drowned it in fuzzy distorted sounds.
Things We Lost In The Fire was as sad as it sounds, as he sings of watching his house burn down and you're not quite sure if this is about a real fire or a metaphorical one caused by some other actions. Either way, it's a stunning song.
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The drugs are never far away from the surface on either Southern Sky or California but they aren't the controlling interest that really seems to be the love of a good woman and the hope of redemption once you've finished with all the hurt. He has the whole place with him and is taking us on an emotional rollercoaster.
John then asks us if we have heard of Sparklehorse before they cover that band's Maria's Little Elbow and I have to say as someone who was mightily unimpressed by Sparklehorse live that I think he may have taken their song up a notch or two. Penny Nails follows that and is also well received.
They then dip back into World Without End: his album of Murder ballads with Bob Frank for a brilliant version of Boss Weatherford 1933; just one of the true stories they told on that album. That was followed by the set closer and the break out song from the album Little Coloured Balloons which is all about the little balloons of heroin he was scoring and how the needle and the spoon were the main focus of his life for quite a while. Very sad, yet this is a beautiful plangent song fuzzed up a bit live but still capable of pulling at the heartstrings to make you feel sorry for both the lover trying to help him clean up and the junkie for loving the needle more than his partner.
There was no doubt he was coming back for an encore from the reaction of the audience and soon enough John was back solo and trying to sing Yer Little Black Book. However, the strap on his acoustic guitar wouldn't behave and he gave up and called the band back up and they gave us a blistering bruised version of the Rolling Stones' Schoolboy Blues that was far sleazier than anything Mick could come up with. In fact, you just got the feeling they were inside the lyrics living the song, which probably isn't a good thing.
They then closed the evening with a version of Townes Van Zandt's Waiting Around To Die which every time John had to sing Codeine it seemed to grow in intensity as is he was going from having one small tablet to mainlining it in the space of a song.
A great performance. I look forward to hearing whatever John Murry comes up with next. This show would have earned a higher mark but for the awful support acts, but them's the breaks.
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