It is hard to believe that The Delines have now been making music for more than 12 years. Was it really that long ago that Richmond Fontaine was gently laid to rest, and Willie Vlautin, surely the most self-effacing man in popular music, handed over lead vocal and centre stage duties to Amy Boone? And what an inspired move it has proved to be, when she inhabits Vlautin’s cinematic vignettes of the American underbelly with such commitment, and that magnificently soulful and smoky voice.
So, to the Union Chapel, London’s most atmospheric venue, for what has been a regular stop for The Delines on their (thankfully) frequent UK tours. It is the ideal setting for this band, not just because of its ambience of beauty mixed with a somewhat sepulchral reverence, but also because the congregation that gathers consists of faithful devotees. This is the polar opposite of a ‘tough crowd’, and these excellent musicians seem to feed off the love they receive.
AUK readers will not require any introduction to the music of The Delines, who occupy a place at the top table in the broad church (that word again) of americana. They provide what can be described as a unique brand of intellectual soul-country, with craft, skill and, importantly, complete empathy for the grifters, drifters and boozers and losers who occupy Vlautin’s evocative stories. The Raymond Carver of music only tells stories; there is nothing personal about him in his songs.
On this night, they projected a sound even more soulful than in the past, and surely it is time for them to put out a live album. The set focused mainly on their rich back catalogue with songs from Mr Luck & Ms Doom, The Sea Drift, and The Imperial before, well into the concert, introducing songs from the recently released The Set Up. However, they kicked off with a song which is not yet on any of those records, Never Been Anyone Like Him, an early highlight. Maureen’s Gone Missing and Don’t Miss Your Bus followed, before another excellent and haunting new song, A Girl Floating Down The River, was given an airing.
The band does, of course, contain supreme musicians, and the bewildering skill of Cory Gray, as he plays his gorgeous trumpet interludes while simultaneously playing keyboards with the other hand, was on full display. It is all held together by the drum and bass combination of Sean Oldham and Freddy Trujillo, while Willie Vlautin’s understated guitar skills are key to the organic sound. Being Willie Vlautin, there is no question of him unleashing any guitar solos and so risking the spotlight falling on him! What shines through is the pleasure this group have in making music together.
The heart of the concert came with Nancy & The Pensacola Pimp, Hold Fast and Oil Rigs (the only song played from Colfax). However, the finest moment of the night came with a transcendent version of Surfers In The Twilight from The Sea Drift, with its killer lyrical imagery: “You ask me who is this man of mine, And what has he done? I swear I don’t know. He was just coming to pick me up from work. From the back of their car, he glances at me, and I can tell whatever they think he’s done, he’s guilty”.
When the new songs from The Set Up came along, they proved to be well up to the high standards of the catalogue. The Reckless Life tells of a troubled friendship with the self-destructive Bonnie. The apprehensive and troubled lyrics of The Meter Keeps Ticking: “The things he says are cruel, If the nurses weren’t there you’d think He’d take a swing at you“, are enhanced by the ticking percussion and keyboard backing.
The always somewhat artificial ritual of the encores played out, and Trujillo deployed his harmonica to great effect on Walking With His Sleeves Down (great title) before they concluded with some acapella on Dilaudid Diane. The applause from the sold- out crowd was deservedly prolonged and heartfelt. This is a special group, and the growing popularity beyond their devoted base is demonstrated by the fact that they have a concert booked in the main auditorium at The Barbican in March 2027 (with double the Chapel’s capacity). It will be interesting to see whether they can generate the same atmosphere in a more corporate venue.
The support on the night (and on the whole tour) came from Chris Eckman, the former frontman of the much-missed The Walkabouts. He now lives in Slovenia, and his most recent album, The Land We Knew Best, released early last year, was justly feted as Uncut’s ‘Album of the Month’. The album has a full backing, but tonight he was just accompanying himself on acoustic guitar. His six-song set drew from that record with Town Lights Fade and Buttercup. He has a compelling, sonorous voice and delivers his intriguing lyrics with the worldly-wise deliberation of a Leonard Cohen or Nick Cave (in ballad mood). The lyrics conjure up mysterious imagery: “And the tears have turned to silver Been minted up as coins And the scars they all have nicknames”, and he has conceded that: “Sometimes it is hard for me to even figure out where the autobiographical stops and the fiction starts.” He concluded his set with a fine Walkabouts song, My Diviner (from Travels in Dustland).
