Travelling from London’s centre, the “Lizzy line” as it is colloquially known, takes you to Whitechapel in the East End in under eight minutes. Unless you make a pitstop at The Blind Beggar, the scene of one of Ronnie Kray’s many infamous deeds, a brisk ten-minute walk takes you to this atmospheric venue. The George Tavern is a 150-capacity pub in Stepney, East London. Its large, frosted, arched windows let in the late-spring sun, and the open, wooden-floored space gives it a homely, intimate feel. As an old-fashioned East London’ boozer’, you could imagine a real ‘knees up’, Chas n’ Dave at the upright, references to ‘apples and pears’ and ‘daisy roots’. The slightly raised stage allows a close proximity to the artists; its sound-deadening, well-worn, patterned carpet gives it the feel of a well-used living room.
It’s refreshing to attend an americana gig where the apparent age of the audience suggests a limited interest in the pensions triple lock. Sinclair is the new americana kid on the block, and whether by accident or by design, it’s to his credit that he’s attracting a younger demographic to the genre. As he told us several times, “this is sick“, clearly more Gen Z than Boomer. And yes, to be fair, it was sick. He has a powerful, urgent voice which compels attention. Sinclair seemed genuinely ‘stoked’ at being at The George and performing to this London audience.
Chicago-born, now based in Los Angeles, Sinclair is at 23 years old, at the start of his career. He has attracted many plaudits, often with the obligatory, yet largely meaningless observation that he is “the real deal”. Whatever this means, it’s clear that Sinclair is bringing a freshness to the genre whilst embracing the history. He is adding his own unique voice, and yes, it all sounds pretty real to me.
Sinclair took to the stage, with his small size, cut away Martin, relaxed, slightly nervous. In the first song, the yet unreleased Caught, he demonstrated astute vocal control as he launched his voice away from the mic with arresting power and gusto, returning as his voice modulated into the first verse. An excellent version of this song can be found as part of the Indie Hourzz series, as recently featured in AUK. This powerful start is quickly followed by Bloodline from his album American Recordings, Sinclair’s conviction in “There’s fire in motion and nothing ahead/The phone on my bed twisting into my head” grabbing our attention. Early Will Sheff comes to mind. His message is given emphasis by the repetitive rhyming and the single hypnotic melody. As the set progressed, Sinclair seemed to relax further, smiling as he repeated his previous positive affirmation. Stuck from the 2024 Pale Moon Pale Horse EP followed, recounting the pain and confusion of being in love and then, drawing from American history and tradition without the patriotism or nostalgia, the favourite Dustland followed. As Sinclair says, “I drive around America with my fucking rock band and play music on highways and freeways. I have love for that, and I have fear for where our country is going, but I also have hope.”
The audience sang along with most of the songs, only a couple, perhaps new ones, being less familiar. The Battle of Cahuenga, from the EP of 2025 of the same name, was introduced as a song about his brother and drag racing, yet it clearly has deeper historical references. Renditions of Surrender Song, the clear favourite, Joel Roberts and Pale Horse, his most-streamed song, were well received by the audience. Sinclair then announced, to the surprise of the audience, that the next one was to be the last, even if he did try to mitigate the tangible disappointment with “this is one you can dance to“. Therefore, after 45 minutes, the set abruptly ended, the immediate illumination of the house lights ending any ambiguity concerning encores. It was a short, punchy, yet entertaining set. The audience was left ready for more, yet maybe that was the idea.
Sinclair said he hopes to be back with a full band at some point, which, based on the various band videos online, would be something worth checking out. He is in the process of making, as he framed it, “a rock and roll album“, perhaps as a counter to American Recordings, previously described as a “folk rock thing”. Maybe next time we’ll see a different side to Truman Sinclair. There was certainly enough here to whet the appetite, and real deal or not (don’t get me started), this gig suggests that he has a bright future.
Earlier in the evening, we were entertained by May Payne. The 20-something singer-songwriter, based both in Manchester and London, gets the prize for the best lyric of the evening with “I really hope you eat me like those guys in The Andes”. Identity was addressed through taste as opposed to sight and sound, a creative and interesting idea. Pennsylvania stood out as Payne started a cappella, adding instrumentation as the song progressed. Payne’s songs share her pain and vulnerability, yet she projected a light demeanour. Despite the subject matter, there was humour when, to a fair degree of amusement, the end of the final song was punctuated, enigmatically, by the horn of a passing car.
