Lucinda Williams at Vicar Street, Dublin on Sunday 12th May 2013

Lucinda Williams has long been held in high regard among her fellow musicians and fans, and while never receiving the commercial successes of contemporaries like Emmylou Harris or Mary Chapin Carpenter, her career has spanned almost thirty-five years so far. The Louisiana songwriter’s last release was in 2011 with ‘Blessed’, and while a few numbers from this are indeed aired, this latest tour sees her stopping off for an all-seated, intimate and career-spanning gig in Dublin’s Vicar Street.

“We love you, Lucinda!” calls a female voice before the singer has uttered a word, and frequent interjections in this vein are offered during the night. After a heartfelt show of gratitude to the crowd for supporting live music in tough times, Williams begins with Lake Charles, alone on acoustic guitar. She is joined then by Doug Pettibone and Dave Sutton on guitar and bass respectively and after going it alone for a few verses of Pineola, her companions add understated yet oft-times striking depth and embellishments to the night.

As with a few notable numbers, Car Wheels On A Gravel Road is received with warmth by the crowd and, as with most songs, is preceded by an anecdote. Williams is mostly an affable presence onstage, whether it’s chatting about New York Dolls David Johansen using a lyric sheet onstage as she does, or prefacing Copenhagen with an admission about the song’s mispronunciation rhyme. She has her prickly side, though, as we find out in due course. “Now we’re into the rock portion of the evening” she announces as she dons an electric for the first time for Essence. Pettibone starts some blues riffing, with Sutton’s melodic basslines anchoring, and Williams sways as if lost in the guitarist’s wailing solo. “Uh-oh, we lost some people” she says when it’s done, in reference to the barely remarkable run of punters to the bar. Changed the Locks follows, the guitars now sounding fuller and louder than before, but it’s a short-lived gig for her Fender.

Blaming the guitar for the mini-exodus to the beer taps, she ditches it for the acoustic. “They’re getting the last bus!” one wag calls up, and the crowd reassure her that things are all good. It seems, though, that a riled-up Williams isn’t such a bad thing. Joy follows with Sutton pounding his bass with his fist for a kick drum effect, and it’s as charged and aggressive a delivery as we’ve seen from her all night, complete with acapella segment. She seems that bit more energised after re-strapping on the acoustic guitar, and Honeybee coasts along on the same kinetic momentum, winding down in a noisy guitar solo.

Drunken Angel reaps the biggest crowd reaction, a tribute to songwriter Blaze Foley, but “it could be about Townes. It could be about Kurt Cobain. It could be about Gram.” Passionate Kisses leads the encore prior to which Vicar Street roared, clapped and stamped for more. Apparently it was a song the record company didn’t want to release, being assessed as “not country enough.” “Bastards!” comes the response from the balcony. A fine cover of Nick Drake’s River Man follows, with Pettibone’s affecting pedal steel adorning the deep, soulful timbre of Williams’ voice. Skip James’ Hard Time Killin’ Floor Blues comes hot on its heels, with Sutton once more hammering his bass in lieu of a drummer, and a wonderful, eclectic encore comes to an end with the gospel blues of Get Right With God. The band cuts out, and it’s just Williams’ voice and the audience clapping time before they all pile in for one last solo.

Williams has an easy rapport with the clearly adoring crowd and tonight’s gig is a low key joy, anecdotal and musically first rate. Sutton switches between electric and double bass throughout, and his harmonious basslines are the underlying triumph of the night. Pettibone is certainly no slouch either, whether it’s tearing apart a solo, picking out some folk-style mandolin, or teasing out those peals of lapsteel guitar on top of Williams’ rhythmic strumming. It’s a gig that imperceptibly gains in energy, no doubt in part down to Williams’ mid-gig electric embargo, a game-changer that could have thrown things off balance but here only seems to instil more fervour in the players. Hats off to you Lucinda, and remind us never to get on your bad side.