Live review: John Murry at The Pepper Canister

A contemplative songwriter, the Mississippi-born Murry chronicled a painful battle with drug addiction in 2012 debut album The Graceless Age; a deeply personal collection of songs that takes the listener from the depths of despair through to ultimate redemption - and peace. And so, it’s eerily fitting, as the husky-voiced singer opens with ‘The Ballad of the Pajama Kid’ (‘I saw the skies open up / Above a blood red moon / The city lights were choking all the stars / The cry belonged to you’), that the painted angels in the church’s dome – lit up in fiery red – gaze down silently upon him.
And it remains as intense throughout tonight’s performance, though Murry’s dry, off-the-wall humour keeps the audience chuckling despite his songs’ heavy subject matter. “You’re awesome, John!” shouts a female fan. “Am I?”, he quips. “Could you ring my wife and tell her?”
Some of the night’s (many) highlights include ‘Southern Sky’ – given an achingly heartfelt, slowed-down intro; the dreamy alt. country stylings of ‘Things We Lost In The Fire’ and of course, Murry’s piece de resistance; ‘Little Coloured Balloons’. Stepping down off-stage to sing alongside pianist (and tonight’s excellent support act) Gavin Glass, Murry is at his most vulnerable performing the song that recalls his near-fatal heroin overdose in San Francisco. Unsurprisingly, the audience are on their feet in rapturous applause afterwards, aware that they’ve seen something very special here tonight. An amazing performance.