Live review: Lambchop @ The Barbican

Gig date: 01/03/12

I recently had the unexpected experience of seeing a guitarist from one of the world's biggest rock bands set up and sound check before a show in a small venue. The sound man was struggling with the volume this man was punching out on the stage. So much noise was blasting out of the guitarist's amplifier, that there was no need to put anything through the house sound system. In fact, the volume would have to be turned down if any of the other instruments were to be heard.

This is something that is highly unlikely to happen at a Lambchop show. In Europe to showcase their new haunting “Mr M” collection of songs, the seven current incarnate members of the Nashville co-operative play their instruments so softly, it's almost as if they're trying to see how quiet they can go without entirely stopping playing. It's like a slow bicycle race.

The main lesson learned is that this is A Good Thing. The sound is immaculate, every note delicately phrased, every word precisely annunciated. The staid Barbican concert hall hums with delight as songs from “Mr M” are picked apart and restitched together in that strange mixture of folk, torch song, and countryfied Americana that Kurt Wagner's troupe manufacture.

Set up tonight in a horseshoe shape, much as one would imagine they gather in Kurt's basement, though those of us to stage left are disappointingly given the back of Wagner's big square head to look at for the evening. Even from here, it is clear that the man is like a coiled spring. With restraint being the name of the Lambchop game, Wagner's body is itching to express itself, each note plucked from his ancient curved-top like a precious truffle, each word released into the ether like a jewel. His songs about “life, love, loss and death,” read like musical Raymond Carver stories, miniatures of mid-American crisis and despair, joy and connection. Hymns for the dispossessed. We are given every one of “Mr M's” tunes without explanation: none is needed. “I used to know your girlfriend back when you used to have a girlfriend. She was nice and you were not, but I was a big prick back then too,” Wagner croons on the infinitely beautiful “Buttons.”

Only one of the non-hard-rockin' outfit feels the need to stand up to perform, and that's the bassist, Matt Swanson. His bass is strung lower than Peter Hook's, but it is clear there will be no swashbuckling. It's just that's how your bass guitar can be most closely made to resemble an upright bass.

You're in your favourite deckchair in a long quiet garden. You've kicked off your flip-flops and you're running your toes through the smooth, dry, medium length grass, uncluttered by moss. Beside you, within reach, is the Sunday paper. You might get round to reading it at some point, but now the sunlight splintering through the trees and playing on your closed eyelids is all the entertainment you need. Your big toe and your next toe close around a dandelion stem and you gently lift them up, scattering the seeds of the clock to the summer breeze. This is what it feels like to listen to Lambchop.

Words: John Deering

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