Some performers walk a fine line between self-assurance and conceit. Jason Isbell, for all his talent (and it is formidable), walks that line. His performance at Antone’s in Austin with his four-piece backing band, the 400 Unit, was like a case study straight from a book on the psychology of creative personalities. Over the course of a nearly two-hour set, Isbell’s demeanor was calm, but at times distant and aloof. There wasn’t much banter with his noisy, eager audience and what little humor he showed was wry and a bit dark. Still, at the end of the night, the former Drive-By Trucker gave the impression of an artist who works very hard but takes himself a bit too seriously.

Drawing mostly from his recent post-Truckers albums (2007’s Sirens of the Ditch and this year’s self-titled release) Isbell lead his band through a slew of original tunes that made the case – if it hadn’t been plain already – that he’s a worthy songwriting peer, if not a rival, to former band mates Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley. Newer songs like the straight-on country ballad “Cigarettes and Wine” show Isbell flexing his narrative muscle with a curious mixture of realism and rosy imagery: “Wings on her shoulders and feet, a bar on Gethsemane Street/ I took time to plan my retreat, and backed out the door.” And while Isbell certainly excels at these introspective story songs, he reaches great potency with character studies and scenario sketches, like the eulogy for a fallen friend, “Dress Blues,” which may have been the emotional peak of the entire set.

As sharp as the ballads were though – and as much as they were easily the biggest crowd-pleasers, including old Trucker gems like “Outfit” and “Goddamn Lonely Love” – Isbell stepped up to show all sides of his songwriting, with his band right beside him to beef up the riffs. Guitarist Browan Lollar, bassist Jimbo Hart, keyboardist Derry deBorja and drummer Chad Gamble got steady behind the set’s numerous mid-tempo rockers, like the late-night barroom musing “Streetlights,” but they never seemed to spark, coming off like a less punchy version of The Heartbreakers. Still, there were moments when the band gelled nicely, like the bruising, blues-rocker “Try,” complete with a spot-on, straight-from-1972 solo by Isbell himself, who took surprisingly few leads during the set despite his knack for it. The somewhat staid and somber mood of even the uptempo songs was offset by a strangely excellent cover of the Talking Heads’ “Pyscho Killer” – completely out of left field, but well-played and whimsical nonetheless.

It was an interesting aesthetic, floating between modern rock and its rural forbears, and combined with Isbell’s lyrical chops, made for some compelling songs. Despite any hangups about performance and ego, it’s a musical world that Isbell has forged for himself and it seems to suit him just fine.