Bones Owens looks, well, cool. He looks like a rock star in a way mere mortals never would. Basically, he didn’t come from Nashville not to make an impression. And Bones and his boys are a three-piece band as good as you’ll find coming out of Music City.
More Tyler Bryant than George Jones, if you want a reference point, essentially, they want to put the rock ‘n’ roll into country rock. They do it brilliantly. “Goin’ Back Where I Came From” has a hint of Rival Sons about it, and the quieter “Just In Case It Rains” highlights another side to them.
You sense that there is a filthy rock ‘n’ roll band just bursting to get out here, and “White Lines” is interspersed with Sabbath and AC/DC, and even when they go down a blues root, as they do for “Rambler,” the vocals are as raw as the emotion.
With an album out just a few months ago, and this tour, it feels like things are moving up a notch or two for Bones Owens. It also feels like he’s ready for all that comes.
Before they play “Like It Was Yesterday” here, Blackberry Smoke frontman Charlie Starr addresses the crowd: “We’ve been playing this music together for 24 years,” he says, “and for about 12 of those, we’ve been coming to see y’all.”
MV saw them on that tour. They were—then as now—sensational. They are the best at what they do on the planet.
Perhaps as a consequence of that, and maybe because of the passing of founding member Britt Turner in the spring of this year, it feels very much like a celebration of the band’s history.
They open with one they played 12 years ago, “Six Ways To Sunday,” and look by the time they’ve followed that up with “Good One Coming On,” the metaphors write themselves.
There’s a glorious, infectious, welcoming warmth about their blue-collar stuff. “Work For The Working Man,” for example, or “Hammer And The Nail” (one from their wonderful recent record) have choruses you can sing as a collective but an everyman ethos to match.
With the words “I hope you’re ready to boogie tonight,” they unfurl “Hey Delilah.” If you needed any further signposts as to the depth of their writing, then “Crimson Moon” (for which Starr removes his shades as if he truly means business) moves into more psychedelic waters, while the beautiful “Azalea” is dedicated to Britt Turner.
This, though, is mostly about fun. “Ain’t Got The Blues” is preceded by a snippet of The Quireboys’ “7 O’Clock” (their singer Spike is in the crowd—and appears to have had, let’s say, a good night thus far…). “One Horse Town” is given the full singalong treatment.
“Little Bit Crazy” might end the set, but something special happens after. Guitarist Paul Jackson’s son, Spencer, joins them for a superb version of “Fairies Wear Boots”—we did, after all, invent metal in the second city—before the usual set closer, “Ain’t Much Left Of Me,” does its always mighty job.
And even if the lyrics of that one might indicate a world-weary attitude, the two hours they were onstage were anything but.
A mate who had been at the gig text me late in the evening, an hour or so after it had finished, as?if he’d been trying to find the words and it simply said: “What a show! Best I’ve seen them in Brum.” He’s not wrong.
Joyous, uplifting, supreme. Blackberry Smoke are—and always have been—all those things. It’s been quite a journey this past 12 years. And it’s nowhere near done yet.
