Earlier in the year, when I reviewed Early James’ “Medium Raw” record, I said it was one of those albums where you almost have to use the words “primal” and “Robert Johnson at the crossroads.” Watching him live tonight, both of those things still hold true – but there’s more to it. There’s warmth too, and a dry humour that makes the darkness go down easier.
The fire in James’ music might be primal, but he’s self-aware enough to laugh at it. Before “Damn Tornado,” he jokes about being “forced to write,” but there’s no mistaking the depth behind his songs. “Mama Can Be My Valentine” feels like stepping back in time, and “I Could Just Die Right Now” is pure Early James – bruised, poetic, and utterly captivating.
There’s also a real sense of fun. A duet with Red Clay Strays drummer John, on Hank Williams’ “Hey Good Lookin’” brings a grin to every face in the room, and when his girlfriend joins him for John Prine’s “In Spite of Ourselves,” it’s genuinely charming. Introducing it, he deadpans that “every little bit of this is gonna go to my head,” but you can’t help thinking he’s one of those rare performers destined to be loved by everyone who stumbles across him. He may never be mainstream, but in his own world, he’s already a star.
Speaking of stars.
The Red Clay Strays – from Alabama, armed with songs that sound like they’ve been passed down through generations, and the charisma to make them their own. They hit the stage with “Ramblin’” and don’t look back.
Frontman Brandon Coleman has one of those once-in-a-generation voices – part preacher, part outlaw, all heart. “Stone’s Throw” and “Do Me Wrong” thump with old-school rock ‘n’ roll energy, while “Good Godly Woman” and “Disaster” are pure Southern revival. “People Hatin’” comes with a wry comment about how the band’s been criticised by both the left and the right – “we just write about the human condition,” Coleman says – and he’s right.
“Moments” and “Drowning” show the soulful side of that condition, and “Devil in My Ear” is a searing look at mental health that hits hard. When Coleman sits at the organ for “Sunshine” and “Ghost,” the room goes utterly still. These are songs that come from a deep place, sung by a man who feels every word.
“Wondering Why” sparks a moment of genuine emotion when it appears someone in the crowd proposes mid-song – a reminder of how much these tunes mean to people already. “I’m Still Fine” follows, steeped in faith and struggle.
Now, it has to be said: the religious aspect of The Red Clay Strays isn’t for everyone – and it certainly isn’t for me. But even if you don’t share that belief, you can’t deny the passion with which they play. “On My Knees” is delivered with such conviction that belief almost feels beside the point.
The encore – something Coleman claims they don’t always do – sees their guitar tech Robbie take centre stage for “Will the Lord Remember Me” and “God Does,” before “Wanna Be Loved” and “No One Else Like Me” close things out in style.
It would be lazy to call The Red Clay Strays “influenced” by the greats – Cash, Jennings, Williams – because they are that tradition, carried forward with fresh fire and honesty. Back home in Alabama, they might just call it country, but what they really make is real music: raw, rootsy, and unashamedly authentic. The band says its rock n roll.
Anyway, in a world where country has been polished to death, The Red Clay Strays are the real thing – unfiltered, emotional, and unstoppable. And after tonight, there’s no chance you’ll ever see them in a venue this small again.
