The Last of His Kind? Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit take Brighton Dome
The fact that this gig took place in November, and I’m writing this at the end of December is no reflection on the quality and experience of this stop on Isbell’s latest tour, actually this gig hasn’t left my mind. I’ve done a lot of things solo this year, one of those being taking trips to see more live music. To some extent, I’m in a little world of my own in terms of music taste in my local life, but that music means more than my little world to me, so I haven’t been letting the occasional self-doubt stop me.
Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit at Brighton Dome on a cold, dark, rainy November night. I made the eight hour round trip, I wore the boots I’d bought in Nashville, my hair got a little curly queueing in the rain. And I spent 3 hours loving the fact that music just means this much to me. I’ve fallen head over heels with Isbell’s music this year, and upon pretty immediate reflection, I realised that I would more than willingly travel a lot further to see him live again.
Isbell’s UK audience is a little on the older side, I can’t speak for elsewhere, but this did mean that I was definitely one of the younger fans there. Maybe, then, for comfort reasons most people gravitated towards the seated sections, but I got to the venue when doors opened, chose to stand, and went to hang out at the front. So, inevitably, I spent the evening chatting with middle aged men who I’m sure I would otherwise have never had a reason to speak to. But the guy from Canada who had moved to the North of England a good few decades ago told me about when he travelled around the US in a converted school bus, and wanted to know ‘how does a British girl get this into country?’. The Australian man in a bush hat was telling me about his vinyl collection and which Live From The Ryman album he preferred. And the security guy was not just genuinely interested in my life, studies and passions, but had some good stories about the music he’d seen, his day job in the NHS, and the time he’d bought a bottle of Jack Daniels from a guy in Nashville and then mistakenly gone to a gay bar. He thought the fact that I do things like seeing live music and travelling on my own was pretty cool, and it never hurts to be reminded of things like that.
After chatting for a little while, the lights got a little darker and someone confidently, if quietly, walked on stage. SG Goodman opened for Isbell, she’s someone who I would have bought a ticket to see anyway so I was keenly anticipating her getting on stage. Armed with a guitar, a handful of old and new songs, and the strongest Kentucky accent I’ve ever heard, SG made an impression, there really couldn’t be a venue more perfect for her than the Dome (well, maybe somewhere in the Appalachian mountains). Her half hour set was understated, simple, sarcastic and a genuine honour to have heard.
Now I hope that anyone who reads what I write understands what I mean by this, but Isbell’s set was overwhelming, and in all seriousness, was one of those moments when it clicks that ‘yeah, this guy really is the best of the best’. I say things like this to my sister, and it leads to jokes of how I can’t shut up about genius songwriters and insanely talented guitar players whenever I mention a new release or an artist I’m loving - she means well, most of the time. But from the first song of the set, When We Were Close, to the final encore of This Ain’t It, I was entirely caught up in that music, in constant admiration.
The 400 Unit are an exceptional band. Members swapping between instruments with a natural ease only the best can do, and a connection that went beyond the music but to obviously inside jokes too, conveyed with just a smile between bass player and lead guitar. These guys are confident enough to go up against any rock band, they do it all very well: country-rock, southern-rock, and straight up rock. At multiple points throughout the set there are moments reminiscent of Allman Brothers level talent, double drummers take an already powerful sound to a higher, louder and somehow tighter level. An indulgent interruption to the regular version of This Ain’t It gives Isbell and long-time 400 Unit guitarist Sadler Vaden a chance to really show off their skills in a few minutes of jamming and dualling.
With a setlist made up of songs from throughout Isbell’s musical career, the rockier numbers were balanced with acoustic and softer, country-tinged autobiographical introspection. Strawberry Woman saw the band swapping keys for accordion, and bass for an upright, perfectly finished with some restrained slide guitar – the pink lighting just made it all the sweeter. Alabama Pines is a country gem that wholly encapsulates the feeling of being lost, so universal that it leaves you longing for the comfort of Alabama wherever you are – a highlight of the show for me. Moving into a ‘Southeastern’ big hitter, Elephant is a reminder of the confidence Isbell has always had in his writing, not many people can write, and perform, a song like that. Hearing ‘there’s one thing that’s real clear to me: no one dies with dignity’ live is just something else.
For a night in the UK, Isbell gave us Americana. In a musical sense, the 400 Unit are a southern-rock band and they know it. Isbell knows it, and he knows his country side too. But in terms of writing, Isbell takes us on a journey of America through his careful, skilled and painfully honest writing. The southern gothic of looking death in the eye, and the constant haunting presence of its impact on When We Were Close; the opioid crisis, alcohol abuse and addiction struggles on King of Oklahoma; gun-violence and contemporary anxieties on Save The World; small-town rurality, life and love on Strawberry Woman. Cast Iron Skillet which marked the group’s return to the stage towards the end of the night is, in my opinion, one of the best written Americana songs of the last decade - or more.
Possibly a predictably brilliant moment, but Cover Me Up was the part of that gig that my mind wanders back to. Isbell’s vocals on that chorus didn’t just reach the back of Brighton Dome, they soared to the roof and through the windows. Perfectly simple, Isbell on an acoustic, some slide to keep him company as he sings a tale of longing and love, of comfort and content, til the magnolias bloom. This one had me teary.
I haven’t seen Isbell solo, but from the more acoustic sections of this gig, I’m sure it would be phenomenal. The thing about Isbell with The 400 Unit though, is that it seems to open up opportunity for him to take a step back, to switch from frontman to guitar legend, from solo artist to jam band, from songwriter to group storyteller. He has an appreciation for the sound and talent of his band that means he’s more than comfortable to leave them on stage without him.
So, this might have been a little more rambling than an average live music review. But it’s a reminder to listen to ‘Weathervanes’, to truly question how Isbell writes the way he does, to buy the ticket, and to do stuff on your own when you need to. When you care about something deeply enough, it’s always worth making the trip.
