Exquisite songs of a life well bruised from Ben De La Cour, 20th April 2026.

THANKFULLY MORE THRONGED

A thankfully more thronged KGC, a full house this time, for this consummate documenter of a southern gothic “Americanoir”, Ben De La Cour. Possibly his third visit to this bijou oasis in downtown Kings Heath, he recounted how, when the first time he played here, a couple of years ago, the audience was a little more sparse. Twenty, he thought. Well, it had combined with some sort of football game, I recall, being one of the intrepid, actually, 11 souls then present. Not that it stopped him playing a blinder, his narrative songs of life’s chancers and losers, scored through with God and the Devil, each fighting for control of the flyover states, visions of an America on its uppers.

SELF-DEPRECATING & WOEBEGONE

So what has changed? Well, no football tonight, for a start, but a European tour, supporting Lucinda Williams, who has championed him from the start, has done no harm to his exposure, he now known to a much larger audience. Praise be, as he really is the real deal, deserving no less, the latest in a line of self-deprecating and woebegone troubadours, touting his trade and a battered guitar, town to town, in the footsteps of Townes Van Zandt and John Prine, each of who came to mind tonight, as he sang his lonesome songs. Other names too, such as Mary Gaulthier and, even, Bruce Springsteen, in his Nebraska Old Testament prophet persona, became apparent as touchstones towards his now idiosyncratic whole.

QUIET FALTERING CLARITY

A man of very few airs and graces, he shambled on stage around 8, blinking at the audience in the surprise that still hits him, every time, realising this is his job and these people have come to see him, paying for him, at that. Intensely literate, his lyrics paint pictures of the Midwest, often in shaky black and white, a gauche technicolour at best.

First song, Appalachian Book Of The Dead, from album number four, Sweet Anhedonia, and arguably his break through, immediately set the tone: “Where you gonna go when you can’t go home, where you gonna go, where you gonna go?” A voice that falters even more live than on record, that apparent weakness is his strength, as the control of every little shake and crack is beyond accidental. To sing that quietly and yet with so much clarity is remarkable, not a word lost on the way. Shadow Land pulled more stark imagery into focus, all held together by his guitar play, always adept and fully functional, never flashy for flashy’s sake, but clearly no slouch either. A perfect scaffold for his wordplay.

BEAUTIFULLY FRAGILE

A brief tale followed around the derivation of the Revolutionary Suicide Jazz Band, mentioned in the song before, It was apparently the name of one of Idi Amin’s pet musical projects, during his tenure as somewhat unhinged Dictator of Uganda. Feeling duly challenged to check this citation, yes, it is actually true! This little aspect of grim reality explained, it was time to deepen the angst with the title track of his latest release, New Roses. Say it quickly, and you’ll catch the subtext, but, failing that, the lyrics provide the necessary nuance: “I brought you new roses, the only thing I couldn’t kill, I brought you new roses and they’re living still.” Whether the addressee of the song is, or not, seems somehow unlikely, the text also awash with biblical names and references.

Still the songs came, sparse and spare, through Shine On The Highway and into God’s Only Son, a more uptempo thrash of a story song, usually involving the breaking of strings. Not so tonight, though, however many commandments the main protagonist sees therein fit to break. Tending to offer little in the way of introductions, occasionally we were gifted with anecdotes from his career, suggesting his vocation more a curse than confettied. And then he would tell a joke: “Have you a sheep’s head”, said to a butcher, “no, it’s my haircut“. Ouch. Seeing the need to swiftly put that behind him, we were then graced by a rare cover, a beautifully fragile Lakes Of Ponchartrain.

DARKER THAN DANIELS

Time then for a break, or for merch, his stated preference, albeit with a knowing wink. To be fair, despite a faulty card machine, he seemed to shift a fair bit, chatting also engagedly with those who wanted to just do that. Breaks at this venue always tend to extend, given the enthusiasm of punters in meeting and greeting the usually equally enthusiastic performers. This was no different, with the second half kicking off a little late, with American Mind, a mellifluous mix of Springsteen and Jackson Browne. The Devil Came Down To Silver Lake is another more roustabout style of song, and exemplifies De La Cour’s gift for picking a subject, from elsewhere in the great US songs and story books, subverting them and running sideways therewith. And, of course Charlie Daniels gets a mention in the song, but it’s considerably darker in outcome and suggestion than was his.

Another shouty thrash, something about the Pagan Lounge or, possibly, Pilgrim Lounge provided the contrast to lighten the effect of to many tales of desperation and despondency, but, knowing his fanbase, De La Cour is never far away from another delicious dirge, with Sweet Anhedonia one of the best, followed by the gaunt spluttering candle of Christina, a song that encapsulates the great gothic American novel in under two minutes.

THE EVIL SIDE

An unexpected introduction came as he pointed out his mother, accompanying him on this 21 day tour, and who, as he had mislaid his driving licence, was doing the bulk of the driving, at least if anyone was asking. It seemed somehow the last touring situation you would expect from this singer, yet he made it sound all perfectly standard fare. And why not? It then made the perfect introduction to his affectionate song about the weird relatives we all have, Uncle Boudreaux Went To Texas. (“If you can’t think of any such relative, then it’s probably you!“)

Following these demonstrations of his human side, it was time again to show his flip, giving us a brace of songs from his, he said, evil side. So Tupelo, followed by the extraordinary Stuart Little Killed God (On Second Avenue.) I have to say that, as an acoustic banger, it makes far more sense without the somewhat bizarre production given it on the recorded version. Nominally the last song of the night, and the last song, thus, of the tour, there was, naturally, another wrist-slitter, the intensely bittersweet Swallow Dive, which opens with the beat that line: “Joey bounced like a brick from the fourteenth floor window“, lightening up very little after that smack. Yet, despite all that, the song remains both sympathetic and empathetic, played out for poignancy over laughs. Damien Jurado is one of few other writers who can carry off such horror and still evoke pity.

BACK SOON

Encores aren’t easy at KGC, there’s nowhere really to go, but, seasoned trouper that he is, he had a good try, strapping back on for We Were Together Once, a plangent love song to his daughter, with the heightened sense of fear only a parent can have for their young: “I’m so scared for my little girl, feels like there’s nothing I can do; she’s walking through a world on fire in watermelon shoes“. Gulp and goodnight.

Ben De La Cour will be back later in the year. Don’t miss him. In the mean time, eat your heart out, Tennessee Williams, here’s Christina…

Ben De La Cour: Website

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