LUCINDA WILLIAMS – LONDON, SHEPHERD’S BUSH EMPIRE – 9TH NOVEMBER
SUNDAY TIMES NOVEMBER 2006

Lucinda Williams is one of the finest living exponents of the well made song, making sceptics into country rock apologists, and her uncommonly lean and literate lyrics inevitably inspire speculation on the influence of her father, the poet Miller Williams. Now in her mid-50’s, Williams is a sand-blasted frontierswomen, her voice coarsened into richer colours. The Shepherd’s Bush Empire’s sold-out crowd of forty-something men rightly adore her, over-compensating for her apparent unease with great, soft, warm surges of stage-bound love. But where once Williams’s shows rode Alternative Country’s first wave with raucous unruliness, her current set has hardened into routine. A production manager turns the pages of a ledger of lyrics. Crass lighting dictates appropriate emotional responses, rather than allowing her subtle songs the luxury of ambiguity.

Doug Pettibone delivers stillborn guitar solos, their endings evident in their very beginnings. It all sounds just like the record, tonight mainly 1998’s breakthrough Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, newly re-released with extra tracks. As Bob Dylan knows, the only way to deal with a weighty back catalogue is to ignore it, or abuse it and see if it still comes up shining, but Williams is cautious and tentative with her litter of songs. In the closing minutes, a blistering Real Live Bleeding Fingers.. picks up the pace before special guest Bruce Springsteen arrives to help bludgeon L’il Son Jackson’s blues Disgusted to death. Apart from a perfunctory drum solo, the closing number Joy allows the band to loosen up and hit an energy level that Williams’s shows used to start at and build from. Ten years ago, at this same venue, Emmylou Harris showcased her groundbreaking Wrecking Ball album to visibly distressed fans, who ultimately learned to love it. Williams could be a similarly bold elder stateswoman, but tonight she looks like she’d rather be Sheryl Crow.