Bella Spinks opened up the show with mournful piano ballads, full of classical sounding arpeggios. She has a vocal tone that has more than a hint of Kate Bush and interesting song structures but at times it felt like she could have done with a drummer or other accompaniment to keep her in time. Using a loop pedal to layer up vocals at a couple of tasteful moments would have worked better if the timing was spot on. Trevor Moss and Hanna Lou followed sharing the only microphone intimately for their distinctive close harmony singing. At first I found this slightly uncomfortable viewing, as the singers looked like they were on the verge of swooping in for a smooch most of the way through the set, which was a little distracting. In time though I got over this and realised what a lovely, complimentary quality both their voices and guitar timbres possessed. These guys have have just recorded with Ethan Johns, having met the man while supporting him in this very room (Frank was at that show back in 2013). Their songs are charming and evocative of early country, folk, rhythm and blues recording artists. If I was being harsh I'd say it was derivative but they won me over so I'll describe their work as classic instead!
 
Ron strode out onto the stage, resplendent in a burgundy smoking jacket, with a casually confident air I'd not seen before. This was my fifth time watching this songwriters' songwriter perform and it felt like now, touring his 14th studio album, the man is starting to feel more comfortable in his own shoes. The self deprecating charm is still there but Ron's high spirits make it easier to laugh along. He jokes about the last time he played the Komedia at the upstairs venue, which is now a cinema, and enquires whether playing the basement is a step down. The audience flares up with reassurance but it's unnecessary, it's all theatre and Ron is in the good company of a full house tonight. And what a night it was, I had not realised 2015 marks the 20th anniversary of Ron's eponymous début album so on this tour he is playing 'a bunch of stuff' from that record, as well as promoting his latest effort Carousel One.

He played alone just his guitar, his voice and his wonderful songs – apart from a few mellow songs in the middle on the piano, including a breathtaking version of 'There's A Rhythm'. The songs from Ron Sexsmith were a wonderful reminder of what made me fall in love with his work in the first place, but it's the songs he shares from the new album, like the amusing story song of Ron's 'St. Bernard' dog with a flask of brandy round his next, or the 'Getaway Car' that aided his swift exit from an uncomfortable songwriter's circle event, that prove he's still writing gem after gem 20 years on. Tonight his voice is a little road-weary but it does little to impact the quality of his performance, it just adds a rugged authenticity, not that he needs that affectation. I find myself focussing most of my attention on his guitar playing, which is splendid, especially when he plays the instrumental passages – the rhythm parts remaining gently plucked below as the top notes of a solo melody sing out above, as if momentarily he magically becomes two guitar players (and no loop pedal was harmed in the effort). The highlight of the set for me was a beautiful rendition of 'Strawberry Blonde' from his second album Other Songs, a great song from a pretty underrated album but then his back catalogue is full of such things. At one point in the show, as he's introducing one of the later numbers, a girl in the audience yelled out, “play all night”, which prompts an anecdote about Bruce Springsteen. An impressionable Ron had been to a Springsteen show and seen a 3-4 hour performance which inspired him to attempt the same at an acoustic show he was playing the next day where he was supposed to play four 30 minute sets throughout the night. That night he got about 45 minutes into 'all night' before being booted off the stage, but tonight I reckon he really could have played for hours and we would all have stayed and cheered and clapped until our hands were bleeding.

Adam Kidd
 
Website: ronsexsmith.com