Live Review: CW Stoneking, William Crighton

There's a sign on the Howler bandroom bar tonight redirecting imbibers back out to the main bar. As a result, the sound of bottles clunking against one another as they're binned doesn't break the spell of William Crighton solo. He starts a cappella, stalking the stage while singing Priest, his harrowing tale of a country boy killing a paedophile clergyman: "Let the blood of the holy one wash away your fears." Crighton then plays various stringed instruments, somehow making his guitar sound like a didge, and we're all reverently silent throughout his set except when we're hollering approval and supplying thunderous applause at song's close. The backstory to On My Way is heartbreaking. Crighton tells us he heard an ex-serviceman speaking about arriving on the battlefield and suddenly realising the sense of dread he felt would also be sinking in behind enemy lines. Crighton's voice is steeped in emotion and his roving eye contact connects us to him. Sometimes Crighton uses the mic to amplify his voice, other times he chooses to wander away from it while projecting his voice naturally, which somehow accentuates the sombre tone of his songs. Crighton invites us to his full band show at Yah Yah's on Cup Eve, while lamenting it clashes with Midnight Oil at Sidney Myer Music Bowl. Someone needs to cast Crighton in an ancestry.com commercial.

"My friends, how do you do?" CW Stoneking opens with How Long, seated on a stool front and centre, and many ladies in the crowd supply BVs. Someone yells out a request and Stoneking playfully chastises, "Not yet! I've only played one fucking song!" We can't deal with how special it is seeing Stoneking solo and he acknowledges this allows him to perform a bunch of old songs he doesn't play much anymore. Stoneking's banter and playful back and forth with the audience is hilarious. The lazy pace of Jungle Lullaby hypnotises and the spoken word section transports us back to bandstands of centuries past. He's clad in all-black tonight with a wide-brimmed hat and his shoes are polished to perfection.

A punter yells a request for "the Third Man single" and Stoneking's having none of it. "I did shit for Third Man!" he protests before announcing it's "a boring conversation". We're then treated to an old blues toon called Ragged And Dirty. Stoneking makes a single instrument sound like multiple guitars and the songs in which he takes on many different characters having conversations are exceptional. Stoneking tells us he finally mastered the Rubik's Cube before admitting he hankers for a "stunt yodeller" because he fucks it up so much. He then serenades us with Talkin' Lion Blues. We can't believe our luck when he starts the convo that leads into Dodo Blues, the chord progressions so wonderfully melancholy, and we all sing along: "Nothing can be wrong when I'm walking with my baby."  

There's some noisy pricks up at the bar, which opened after Crighton's set, and a cone of silence would come in handy. Unhappy with one song's outro, Stoneking replays it even though it was quite satisfactory the first time around. We're thrown into the deep end when Stoneking gives us a job during The Zombie - "To the left/To the right," we obediently sing but then Stoneking stops. "I always forget that line! Do you remember what it is? 'In the dead of the night' - come on, man!" A lady starts singing prematurely and he cautions, "Wait for me!" Everyone delightedly supplies the "Mama! Mama!" parts. There's several more interruptions and the crowd loves it. Stoneking acknowledges that he didn't really write these songs intending to perform them solo, joking, "When the wages are deductible from the manager's cut, we find ourselves in positions like these." He also somehow makes the sound of distant brass through his mouth. As punters continue to holler their requests, Stoneking protests, "I can't do that one, that's a cowbell number!" Someone shouts, "Who's got a cowbell?' Stoneking retorts, "Nobody, I hope". The Stoneking-requested crowd clap-along during The Love Me Or Die is woeful and we're surprised he can keep time.

His Jailhouse Blues singalong number gets a rousing reception and we can barely contain ourselves when the pathos-drenched Mama Got The Blues chords commence. There's a wounded yowl that brings tears to our eyes.  Stoneking sings with such emotion and soul. He thanks his wife for lending him a "two sizes too small hat" to wear tonight. Stoneking begs for our help before I'm The Jungle Man and we do our very best to channel the Kelly sisters. He delivers these songs so lovingly and there really is no other artist like him on the planet. If there is, could you please let us know because we'd loved to make their acquaintance. One could never tire of the Stoneking live experience, in any incarnation. He's a national treasure and unparalleled, authentic talent.