Laura Cantrell in Whelan’s, Dublin on February 18th 2014

Nashville born and New York based, Laura Cantrell is a long way from home on gig five of a ten date tour, but “there is something strangely New York feeling about coming to Dublin”. The all-seated crowd of a certain vintage in Whelan’s tonight humour the observation with bemused laughter, but they’re up for anything, really. The congenial between-set banter in the venue punctuates the performances as folk converse in the pews, quieting to a respectful attentiveness when the stage is occupied.

The first act to settle them into their seats is Sturgill Simpson (“Yeah! The crowd goes mild”). He left his beloved Martin guitar back home in an effort to quell customs anxieties. Tonight, he tells us, his brand new €400 acoustic has re-ignited that anxiety. ‘Tis a vicious circle, but it’s all handled with good humour and humility by Simpson as he runs through his take on country and bluegrass. Neil Diamond’s Red Red Wine is re-imagined, slow and seguing into a more successful take on Roy Orbison’s Crying Over You and his strongest, most distinctive vocal performance. The covers, admittedly and by his own admission, stand apart from the rest, and Lefty Frizzell’s I Never Go Around Mirrors is another successful venture. Simpson engages in some nicely raucous fret-bothering every now and then – as raucous as his new guitar will allow, at least – and his is an amiable enough presence in advance of our headliner.

Cantrell is joined by guitarist Mark Spencer, both standing side by side as they begin with California Rose. When The Roses Bloom Again receives a warm response as the intro is recognised, before Cantrell comes up for air to address the crowd for the first time. Her last visit was in 2005 – “I was here too!” pipes a voice from the crowd – off the back of ‘Humming By The Flowered Vine’, and that album’s Bees proves one of the set highlights. A false start is immediately righted, and Spencer adds delicate effects on the dobro, emulating the gentle drone of the eponymous insect. It’s during the gig’s mid-section, where he sits to provide the dobro’s skewed, Hawaiian lilt, that he best serves his colleague, although his fretwork throughout the night is certainly an impressive addition, and a counterpoint to Cantrell’s refined, impeccable vocal.

Nashville legend Kitty Wells’ name comes up more than once tonight – acknowledged, apparently, by a more clued-in crowd than the previous night’s gig – and Cantrell’s own tribute to the singer, Kitty Wells Dresses, is immediately followed by Wells’ I Don’t Claim To Be An Angel. Spencer’s nimble fingers again lift Do You Ever Think Of Me with some Spanish style picking as the set draws to a close. Any semblance of an encore is eschewed; instead, the end of the gig proper is subtly marked by a simple step back from the microphones.

A crowd request for The Whiskey Makes You Sweeter is honoured, and when they cover Cowboy Jack’s Just Someone I Used To Know it is Spencer that seems more lost in it than anyone else in the room, eyes closed as Cantrell observes his playing. Yonder Comes A Freight Train shuffles the night out on an upbeat note with one last fretboard blitz from Spencer. The crowd whoop and the duo depart; it’s a sedate night that picks up as it goes, as gigs of this type tend to do, with Cantrell’s crystalline vocal overriding the odd mawkish moment the songs cough up. It’s nothing less than wonderfully…pleasant.