Lord, it was cold. It snowed the day before. It wasn't the first snow New Orleans had ever seen, but it was enough to cause a stir. I ventured out into that frigid climate to hear music at the Circle Bar. There's a tangible energy in a house that's packed with people bobbing their heads to a loud band. Most venues try to avoid this by having fancy things like a stage and a dance floor. The Circle Bar has a room and a small bar. Fifty people inside is probably a fire hazard. It's simple and worn-down - on the edge of collapse. It's fantastic. That night Jason Isbell was performing.

Jason Isbell penned some of my favorite Drive-by Truckers songs, particularly "Danko/Manuel." When I first saw the Drive-by Truckers at Tipitina's a year before, Isbell had recently left the band to begin his solo career. I hadn't been very impressed with Sirens of the Ditch, his first solo album. In fact, his first album left many people unsatisfied. It seems everyone expected him to come out with something that would turn the Southern Rock machine on its side. I admit, I was one of those people. I decided I had to see him live before I passed judgement, and I reckoned the Circle Bar was the perfect place to bear witness to his particular stylings.

I arrived early and by 10 o'clock I reluctantly gave up the front row position I had been guarding. I needed air. As I chatted with the doorman, a man emerged from a van parked out front and walked to the door. He was wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt with a white t-shirt underneath and a porkpie hat on his head, complete with a tiny feather. Was this really Isbell? I expected a former Drive-by Trucker to be grislier, "mean and strong like liquor." Most of the Truckers look like they crawled out from under a '79 Chevy Silverado just to kick your ass. This baby-faced guy could easily be a prep-school poster-boy. I followed him in and pushed my way into a cramped corner.

As soon as he started singing there was no doubt that this was Isbell. He played alone, with just a guitar and a loop-pedal; but that huge worn-out tenor of his filled every space of the already-crowded bar. I picked out a few tunes from Truckers' albums, "Goddamned Lonely Love" and "Outfit," and one or two off of "Sirens of the Ditch," such as "Hurricanes and Hand Grenades." Everything sounded great, and then he started playing the new material.

I had to get out of there. The music hit me in a very unexpected way. I don't want to say "it moved me" because I'm not a fifty-year-old lady and he's not Wayne Newton. Rather, it felt like he was telling everyone in the Circle Bar about my life and I didn't want anyone to see me crying. It was powerful (for lack of a better word). I had to retreat into the freezing cold and carry myself to a quiet barstool to regroup.

The latest album, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, was released in February 2009, two months after that show at the Circle Bar. It was recorded at the legendary FAME studios in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. I don't think it's too bold for me to say that Isbell fits right in with the best of the singer/songwriters that have recorded there - the "Country Soul" sound. His two solo albums have been very straightforward and simple, letting the vocals carry the weight. In his defense, I don't think it was ever his intention to do anything to Southern Rock - Country Soul lives on in the capable hands of Jason Isbell.

The songs feel old and worn, like your daddy's recliner, and there's no better way to serve country music. The lyrics are captivating; each song is an epic, and it's easy to get lost in the tales of glory and defeat, love and fear, hope and sorrow. He sings with no frills, no sugar-coating, no apologies, just the God's honest truth - and I believe every word of it. At any moment you feel his voice is either going to break down in tears or break out in rage, but he leaves it there, chained up, on the edge of collapse.

Thankfully he's gotten away from writing the pop-tunes that littered Sirens of the Ditch. With the new backing band, the 400 Unit, he seems settled into a sound. (As the name of the album implies, this is not necessarily a solo effort.) The music is solid, the musicians are capable, but don't expect to be blown away by the sound. On the other hand, if you're not careful the words will yank you out of your boots and you might find yourself "washing a little pain down" and watching your conscience turn into "petrified old wood."


check it:
more by Skeeter at sin city south, or check out Skeeter's film blog
more by Jason Isbell