| You
can take the boy out of Nashville but you can’t take Nashville
out of the boy. Josh
Rouse left his home town last year to live in Spain but from the very
first bars of his set it is clear that the musical heritage he grew
up with is alive and well in his writing.
He
opens the show with a note perfect read through of ‘It’s
the Night-time’ – an instantly catchy number which features
some of his most welcoming harmonies (full marks to the all-singing
drummer) and some meaningful soloing.
It
also showcases some of his most arch lyrics. From time to time,
amid the more familiar odes to love, life and loss, he tosses in
a line that catches the listener just a little off guard.
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| Josh
Rouse |
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| Weblinks |
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Josh
Rouse - Official website with pictures, tour dates,
etc...
The
Brickyard
- Top live music venue in Carlisle.
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|
“Maybe
later on
After the late, late show
We can go to your room
I can try on your clothes,” he suggests. Weird? Sweet? Playful?
I don’t know, but it seems to work.
As
well as this occasional curve-ball, Rouse, who is not long divorced,
does a neat line in misty eyed sadness. His voice – smooth
but satisfyingly woebegone – sounds like it’s told many
a tale to many a whisky soaked friend and now, four albums in to
his recording career he’s got plenty of songs to do it justice.
‘Winter
in the Hamptons’ is one such song. It’s a trump card from
his latest album and is dispatched in the first twenty minutes –
a refreshing change in a climate where most acts undermine the consistency
of the show in the search for a killer encore.
Although
there are times when it seems he is in danger of going to the same
well one too many times there is enough subtlety to save him from
repetitiveness. True, much of the set is played at pretty much the
same tempo, but he has enough tricks – a call and response
chorus here, a cheeky falsetto interlude there – to keep things
fresh.
As
the main set closes, Rouse pulls a masterstroke. The simple piano
intro that heralds the start of ‘Sad Eyes’ demands instant
hush. The wave of minor chords has the same funereal air (and, well…tune)
as REM’s ‘At My Most Beautiful’ and Rouse withdraws
from the world as he comes over all wearisome and lovelorn. It is
a wonderful moment and is, pleasingly, not drawn out into melodrama.
After
the first chorus the drums kick in, the guitarist steps quickly
into funk-mode and what was a closing time cry-into-your beer ballad
has turned into a latter Day Beatles style rocker of the type recently
mastered by Wilco.
It
takes something special to make a chilly Monday night in Carlisle
feel like a lazy, snaking drive around the South Coast of America
with the top down and a mid-Atlantic station on the radio but Josh
Rouse manages it.
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