Onsdag 1 juli 2026
Jay Buchanan is a natural storyteller. He brought this and his sometimes delicate, sometimes powerful songs to John Dee on 1 July, to a sold-out house. The venue had wisely laid the place out part seated, part standing, because it was that kind of evening. Though he played only ten songs, it was a long evening, extended by the narrative interludes between the music. Buchanan is not a talk-show raconteur, all pose and preparation. Listening to him talk about his experiences, his journey, the stories behind the songs that he played, is more like listening to an old friend you have not seen in a while talk about what has happened since you last met. It is relaxed, normal, light-hearted even when serious, human, and engaging. In some ways, his gentle persona stands in contrast to some of his darker, more pointed lyrics, but this is perhaps merely a consequence of his sensitivity.
The intimacy of proceedings was reinforced by the stripped down arrangements, the low light, the rows of chairs with upturned, attentive faces, Buchanan standing there with just a guitar and two microphones, one for him, one for his instrument. In this way, it was a simple matter of letting his voice do all the work as the guitar was, rightly, mixed low, barely audible above the vocals. He told the story of how he had come to write the album, his first full-length solo record, living in a cave in the Mojave Desert, hours from his home and his family and his difficulties finding enough material to record and his more personal difficulties believing he had enough and the right material when he reached the studio. As so often with strong songwriting, the arrangement does not matter. The songs all stood up in this solo presentation.
He led us back over his journey to this material, starting with “High and Lonesome” with its echoes of the mountains around where he had been writing, his trademark vibrato strong, his voice clear and even a little vulnerable. Later, we had “Tumbleweeds” which, he had finally admitted to himself, told via an abstraction the story of his stressful return to LA from Tennessee, his wife with their new child in her arms. Here the high passages were affecting, and increasingly strong, his voice soaring “on and on and on….”. There is real personal material underpinning these lyrics and the vocal performance conveyed that. Likewise, “Sway” which he explained was originally written for and, he later realised, increasingly about his wife, was so much more than that, tender, powerful, and like the other songs in the set, enriched by the framing of the storytelling in between the music.
His voice had taken a little time to warm up, and it was probably the power needed for the chorus on “True Black” which gave it the stretch it needed, because it was at full force by “Deep Swimming”. Buchanan reckoned this is probably his favourite song on the record and that comes as no surprise, given the richness of the lyric, the high energy composition and the rather affecting context of his burning (and yet at the same time consuming) the boxes of old photographs and papers found by his parents. It’s a long, dense lyric and a fast number. I’m not convinced that it quite worked in this setting, unlike the other pieces off the record.
One marvellous surprise came after a well-paced and hilarious story of how he came to be sold the house of the children of the favourite niece of the musicologist and composer John Jacob Niles when he moved back to LA. Here, we were treated to his piece “Beauty Everywhere” written for Trevor Davis, for his “Shoreline” album. Just as with “Sway”, this was delicate and direct. The audience were completely under his spell. You could hear people breathe along with the music.
Another bonus was the live debut of his cover of “Changes” by Black Sabbath. He credited them with giving him and his friends in Rival Sons an education during their eighteen months on the road with the band. He also spoke warmly of his experience at the “Back to the Beginning” concert at Villa Park, seeing the reflections of the impact of the music on the audience and other performers alike. He freely admitted he did not know Ozzy Osbourne well (though he had got to know Sharon a little) but could not but wonder at the man’s survival. Having told us the uplifting news of his wife’s recent all-clear diagnosis from cancer, he sung this and its power was unforced, the delivery even more cut down, his voice low, fragile, earnest.
Bringing the set to a close with the title track of his album, “Weapons of Beauty”, which he explained almost never made the record because he could not initially reconcile the arrangement with the tone of the words, was ideal. He was free to put all the energy left into his voice, pushing it hard, showing us his full range.
Buchanan played no Rival Sons songs, and if that meant a shorter set with more talking, it was all the better for it. He rightly stands on his own as a songwriter, however good his work is with his band (first-rate, clearly), and playing any of the band’s music would have overshadowed his own work, so at least for the undersigned, this was a good move.
He closed with his earlier stand-alone single “Feel Better”, which he again related to a moment of intimacy with his wife, when he made her a promise that things would only get better for them from that moment forward, his promise chalked onto the steps where they were sitting, toasted by an expensive bottle of wine he had been saving. He has certainly kept that promise. He can now stand tall as a solo artist with a first album of unquestionable quality that stands up to solo live performance. 5/6
Text: Alex Maines
Photography: Anne-Marie Forker
