Jason Isbell: Live at the venue formerly known as the Grand Ole Opry.

Jason Isbell And The 400 Unit

Live From The RymanSoutheastern Records 

The times are changing, and even the genre pigeonholes are blurring. The Ryman Auditorium of the title is the refurbished Nashville church hall that was once the holy grail of old-school country, The Grand Ole Opry – before they took the name to a flashy theme park and the music went downhill.

In its first heyday, an artist like the now-lauded Jason Isbell would have found it tough getting a look in, let alone the annual dozen-night residencies he now plays there. Although still broadly under the Americana banner, Isbell’s subject matter is not the horse-operas and high plains drifting of back then - but equally doesn’t fit with the big hats and pick-up trucks anthems that seem the currency now.

So here, you get a document of a man and his increasingly superlative band doing what they do with an appreciative audience. There’s a range of subject matter and emotional ground. Ground zero is probably the bluntly candid singer-songwriter tales of his own classic redemption story: getting off the booze to make the best work of a career that started when he was drafted as a guitar prodigy by much-respected fellow southerners, The Drive-By Truckers - who later let him go when the bottle was taking too much precedence over the music.

He even got the girl. And that muse, partner, saviour, and obvious love of his life Amanda Shires is the secret weapon here. She’s not always part of the band – her own rising solo career sometimes taking precedence. But Shires sometimes fiery, sometimes reflective, fiddle playing and counterpoint vocals of real human feeling add texture to the band’s crunch. The hushed need in Cover Me Up, or philosophically mortal If We Were Vampires can make you feel like they’re the only two people in the room.

By contrast, when the 400 Unit kick in, they can be just a superbly tight rock and roll band. The guitars of Sadler Vaden and Isbell fling themselves at each other. Derry DeBorja’s keyboard flourishes range from accordion swing to the barrelhouse bar brawl of Super 8. The singer’s political conscience and pondering on southern identity also get a run on the likes of Cumberland Gap and White Man’s World. The musical muscle displayed explaining why some try to claim them as some sort of alt-country version of Springsteen and the E-Streeters. It’s a not unreasonable call.
There’s a couple of quibbles: even though there’s an energy as they stretch and jam a bit, the band’s so well-drilled it takes a whoop from the crowd or a polite Alabama-accented “Hey, thanks for coming down…” between songs to remember it’s a live item. And for whatever reason – although guessing it’s more contractual than creative – the songs are all from Isbell’s post-rehab albums: the austere and confessional Southeastern, along with the more expansive Something More Than Free and The Nashville Sound. This means you miss out on usual show highlights such as Truckers-era gems Outfit and the defiant Never Gonna Change.

Live From The Ryman will please fans as a souvenir of what they’ve probably already experienced, but will also work as a primer for the curious to start their investigation of a helluva artist, and a helluva band.