photo credit: jim bricker

“My Mama raised me all by herself,” proclaimed Justin Townes Earle, last night at Houston’s revamped Fitzgerald’s. “And if you’ve been reading the papers, you know I’m still a handful.”

No amount of sugar can coat Earle’s recent arrest in Indianapolis, where he was charged with public intoxication and battery against a club promoter after a performance went awry and a dressing room left trashed. Earle’s self imposed check-in to a rehabilitation clinic left his last tour in limbo, with many wondering about the state of the Americana singer-songwriter.

“If you hang around the barber shop long enough, you’re going to get a haircut. I’d just gotten to a point with my drinking that it required a medical detox. Alcoholics and junkies tend to become stupid when it comes to that. We need giant catastrophes to hip us to the fact that we’re fucked up.”

Just weeks shy of his decision to climb aboard the wagon, Justin Townes Earle (son of maverick Texas songwriter Steve Earle; namesake of Townes Van Zandt), headed out on his first national tour since the sobering incident to promote his latest, and very well-received album Harlem River Blues.

– sunbear

photo credit: jim bricker

Starting my night on a high note, the woman behind the ticket-booth at Fitzgerald’s informed me that I was to receive an early Christmas present, in the form of a free ticket to the JTE show. As it turns out some unfortunate circumstances fell upon a ticket-buyer, who had an excess of admission. Rather than sell them at the door, he released them into the wild and hoped the universe would pay it forward (which, btw, where are you dude? I owe you a drink).

Upstairs, Nashville, Tennessee’s, by way of Dallas, Texas-born Caitlin Rose was charming the men in the house with her syrupy-sweet singing and self-deprecating humor. Gently plucking an acoustic and flanked by a boyish guitarist and frazzled Englishman on steel-guitar, the Caitlin Rose trio played a kind of intimate contemporary-style country that evoked Gillian Welch or, even further back, Linda Ronstadt.

Riffing with the crowd about the best local beer, which was voted Saint Arnold’s by means of a one Craig Hlaverty, and dishing about her fear of American audiences (apparently the UK doesn’t make much noise), the ever-fetching Rose had the men in the building eating out of the palm of her hand, and the ladies wishing they could strum a decent lick.

photo credit: jim bricker

Coming out from behind a side-stage curtain, Justin Townes Earle was the very image of the “25 Most Stylish Men in the World” title that GQ magazine had bestowed upon him. Decked in a natty gray, plaid suit, with brown leather brogues and belt to match, his gaunt figure looming, hunched over the far-too-short microphone stand; the Americana singer looking more dapper-dandy than dustbowl. With violinist Josh Hedley and upright bassist Bryn Davies at his side, the trio kicked into the rockabilly reverb of Harlem River Blues track “Move Over Mama.”

Earle plays with a loose, jangly vibe, and the strongest picking hand I’ve ever seen. The guy must break strings on the reg. But it’s his intense staring that’ll get ya good. If the guy’s not completely focused on the music at hand, he’s staring death-rays at every last person in the audience, his face, twisted into anxious, tense shapes. The guy would be downright intimidating if he wasn’t singing earnest songs soaked in American-tradition devoted to his mom and pops, and the ladies who he’s loved and left. In fact, introducing his song “Christchurch Woman,” Earle admitted that the tune was about a Kiwi that left “quite and impression” upon him, which received a shout of “Did ya marry her?!” to which he replied “Hell no! I ain’t my daddy!” touching on his father’s seven marriages. Again, son of the great Steve Earle, here.

photo credit: jim bricker

Earle is his own man: in control of his newly sober life, and his stage persona as well. Repeated requests for “Black Eyed Susie” were denied with a flat “I know how the fuckin’ show goes” from Earle, which was brushed off with a laugh by all. In fact, Earle’s stage banter was in fine comedic form, candid as ever. He touched upon his addictions (“Everytime I do alcohol and drugs … I break out in handcuffs. Life’s funny like that”), to his new home in New York (“but I stay the fuck outta Brookyln”), and his inspirations (“I wrote this about strippers, prostitutes, dope dealers and Jack Kerouac … and Truman Capote”). That last rant issued before switching into a slow and morose version of my favorite, “Midnight at the Movies.”

Playing for nearly two hours, Justin Townes Earle and his band shifted effortlessly from plaintive Americana (“Mama’s Eyes”), to country gospel (“Harlem River Blues”), to folk ballads (“They Killed John Henry”). The band even threw in a fair share of covers, ending their night with the Replacements’ anthemic “Can’t Hardly Wait.” Bassist Davies could slap mean bass, her percussive assault the backbone of the band. Fiddler Hedley ran perfect melodies and sang harmonies to Earle’s jaunty voice. And Justin Townes Earle, all rejuvenated with a sober sense of spirit about him, was at his most incomparable. With his head on straight and guitar-playing firing on all cylinders, the man was at the top of his game, an impressive musician who could back his music with all the depth and sincerity of his seasoned father.

[SETLIST]

Move Over Mama
They Killed John Henry
Ain’t Glad I’m Leaving
Mama’s Eyes
One More Night in Brooklyn
Christ Church Woman
I Ain’t Waitin
Wanderin
Slippin and sliding
I Been Burning Bad Gasoline (Lightnin’ Hopkins cover)
South Georgia Sugar Babe
Someday I’ll Be Forgiven for This
Halfway to Jackson
Midnight at the Movies
Walk Out
Harlem River Blues (with Caitlin Rose and band)

encore:

Hesitation Blues
Union Square (Tom Waits cover)
Can’t hardly Wait (Replacements cover)

[VIDEOS]

Vodpod videos no longer available.

“Hesitation Blues”

Vodpod videos no longer available.

“Can’t Hardly Wait”