Josh Ritter

The dominance of the singer songwriter in this country is something that can engender strong emotions. While the fact that a young hip crowd are prepared to gather in such a young hip venue and listen so attentively to one man and his acoustic guitar can only be a good thing, surely the law of diminishing returns must soon start to kick in? It certainly means that, after the perfectly pleasant musings of Martin Finke and Mark Geary, you can’t help but strain stage-wards in the vain hope that a drum kit and a couple of guitars might appear from the dark. No such luck, however, as it soon becomes evident that we are in for another session of soul bearing intimacy.

Josh Ritter, though, is undeniably fine company. A natural storyteller – both in song and conversation – his extended touring experiences in Ireland have given him a strong rapport with the audience here (where else would a Friday night Dublin crowd greet the prospect of a Leonard Cohen cover so enthusiastically?). And while it would have been good to hear his own ramshackle brand of Americana given a meatier treatment, it can’t be denied that he does have some fine tunes in his canon and a winning way of delivering them.

It’s fitting that the roof rasing ‘Me ’n’ Jiggs’ should namecheck Townes Van Zandt for this is the tradition to which Ritter belongs. And though he’s unlikely to ever tap into the global consciousness á la Springsteen, he is clearly capable of touching the very souls of those with whom he comes into contact. And yes, that even includes those who would have declared themselves thoroughly sick of bloody singer songwriters in the first place.