John Murry, the Mississippi-born singer-songwriter, cuts a dishevelled figure. With jeans tucked into his biker boots and a flat cap pulled down over his fathomless eyes, he shuffles on stage and fumbles with a collection of notebooks and papers.
Apparently these are the lyrics to some new songs which he may, or may not, remember, and so new “no one has ever heard them before”. Literacy, he points out, is not a strong point in people from his state but he assures us he can read and so we’re left hoping that even if he forgets the words, we’ll all be okay.
In this way, Murry sets up an intense, intimate relationship with his audience, essential for the slow-burning appeal of his musical sketches of a life lived closed to the edge. After the critical triumph of his debut album The Graceless Age, he has been in Australia – the Dandenongs to be precise – to record a new EP, Califorlonia, named after his adopted state.
The new tunes, such as Glass Slipper, pick up from where he left off, ploughing a similar, percussive groove which showcases his rather dark world to powerful effect. Then, as he hinted might happen, an attempt to sing another new song is aborted halfway through.
The audience doesn’t mind, because despite the bumbling, Murry has enormous charisma, keeping us entertained with his between-song banter that ranges from California’s wartime concentration camps to Clive Palmer. His put-down for Australia’s miner turned populist political leader: “Anyone who names a political party after themselves is an asshole.”
But back to the music, and Murry gets into his stride with Things We Lost in the Fire and Southern Sky, from his last record, a harrowing account of his battle with drug addiction. Little Colored Balloons confronts the demons head-on and he appears to play it after a request from the audience. As the song builds, he yells the words furiously before finishing the song and storming off stage.
It’s a raw moment but fortunately he soon returns to treat us to an encore – superbly supported by the New South Wales guitarist Heath Cullen – which includes Warren Zevon’s Carmelita and, finally, Townes van Zandt’s Waiting Around to Die. It may sound bleak but you feel that Murry, warmed by the sun of his adopted golden state, has what it takes to beat the demons.
