Justin Townes Earle
Tractor Tavern
Seattle, WA
December 5

Despite exhibiting some of his father’s more troubling tendencies early on, Justin Townes Earle has proven himself more than a chip off the old block. Now mellowed and married, Earle continues to develop his singular songwriting voice, widening his fanbase along the way. With his unpretentious delivery and hipster-approved fashion, Earle has redefined Americana for the post-Coachella generation.

Tractor Tavern is a storied roots room in Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood. The sold out venue is filled with urban hippies, tech-bro-lookie-loos, and hardy locals. It’s the coldest night of the year; a rare snow fell this morning. Once inside, the rusty decor, December good cheer, and flowing spirits combine to create a cozy, boozy scene. Jason Dodson of The Maldives opens with a low-key set of Neil Young-inspired folk. Dodson covers Leonard Cohen’s “Chelsea Hotel No. 1” and David Bowie’s “Lazarus. Both are reminders of what a colossal bummer 2016 has been.

Soon Earle appears: long-limbed and pale with those trademark glasses. He’s funny and personable but that’s just a front. The real Earle is lost and lonesome and a little ornery. “I’m a mouthy fucker,” he admits. “That’s why my hand looks like someone threw darts at it.” Tonight he will perform entirely solo, with only his acoustic for accompaniment. “Burning Pictures” and “Time Shows Fools” from Single Mothers both benefit from this bare bones approach.

Earle announces he will begin recording a new record this week in “the wilds of Nebraska.” “You will get tired of your own music. Yes, you will,” he adds, explaining that tonight he will be playing whatever crosses his mind. (“I’m always thinking,” Earle laughs.) Mid-show, he introduces a pair of covers by Mance Lipscomb and Lightnin’ Hopkins, declaring himself “partial to Texas blues.” On the Hopkins number, he nails a tricky solo. Indeed, Earle’s bluegrass-inflected picking is a consistent highlight tonight.

Like the bluesmen he idolizes, maintaining his persona is paramount to Earle. Tonight he plays the good-natured wiseacre. Earle introduces “Champagne Corolla,” by taking aim at youngsters who fetishize the past, noting that even our beloved Woody Guthrie “sang of modern marvels like the Coulee Dam.” Confirming his contrarian streak, Earle turns Paul Simon’s “Graceland” into a midnight cowboy road song. In defense of Simon, Earle says, “He’s gotta be tough. He’s a little guy who grew up in Queens.”

Introduced as a song he wrote at fifteen, “Halfway to Jackson” wouldn’t sound out of place on dad’s recent Terraplane. The kiss-off receives the night’s most raucous applause.  “Rogers Park” is a late-set standout. After a closing romp through Taj Mahal’s “Fishin’ Blues,” Earle returns to the stage for the title track of Harlem River Blues. As one, the room sings: “Lord, I’m goin’ uptown to the Harlem River to drown/Dirty water gonna cover me over and I’m not gonna make a sound.” The song’s jovial nihilism makes it a perfect tonic for our troubled times. Beaming, Earle finishes up with Buck Owens “Close Up The Honky Tonks,” then retreats backstage, persona perfectly intact.