J. Tillman
w/Black Horse, Lee Rude andthe Trainwrecks, Sera Cahoone
Thurs May 26, Neumo's, 8 pm, $10, 21+.
There's a quiver to J. Tillman's voice that's equal parts delicate don't-wake-the-roommates whisper and a waterlogged receptor for tears that have yet to ïŹnd release. On the local singer/songwriter's most recent, self-released (and paper-wrapped) record, I Will Return, the New York transplant uses that slight quiver to add further texture to a set of songs so tenuous in their grip on good cheer that it feels like the emotional dam break could happen at any time, were it not for the outlet of recording a record-and the resolute nature of Tillman's voice that is equal parts vulnerable confessor and professional storyteller.
Return strips arrangements back to the basics-you can almost hear the slide of the singer's ïŹngers changing chords on an acoustic guitar, and strings both provide delicate cover for the melodies and boost the somber mood. Lyrical admissions like, "I always end up with these girls who I do not love" ("Trail of Red, My Bride in White") rise above typical coffeehouse fare with descriptive Southern gothic tales and tones. Another album standout, "Your Mother's Ghost," laments being ungodly and martyrs a matron saint with the lines, "You could have spared your mother from my drunken hands/and as we dig her casket's bed/think upon my sins for which she bled." (Tillman notes in his bio that Flannery O'Connor inïŹuences his lyrics-and that there's a new full-length in the works for this fall.)
The former freelance writer (and according to his website, "plasma donor") has toured with the like-minded Damien Jurado as well as Dolorean, and for his live shows he casts his instrumental net a bit wider, weaving in outside musicians to play drums, accordion, banjo, and slide guitar. His live demos paint the gray clouds with a bit more silver lining, but Tillman's voice still perfectly parlays stories of broken-down relations-whose emotional fragments piece together to coalesce into moving musical narratives. â
