20 January 2025 (gig)
23 January 2024
It’s more than a decade since I was dragged, kicking and screaming, to a country music festival in London. It was three days long and I wasn’t happy about it. But like most things I spend an unnecessary amount of time whingeing about, I rather enjoyed it. Sure, some of it felt a little assembly line, but something got me for good.
It took me a few years to work out what that thing was. Of course, there are certain sounds, styles, tones and phrasings that appeal, but that all has to be grounded in something very real. For me, authenticity is everything. Especially in a genre like country music. And that’s what pours from Ashley McBryde when she performs. She’s the real fucking deal.
I curse for emphasis. Because honestly, in a scene where labels like “farm emo” are tossed around to describe the country music genre, and every single up-and-coming artist goes out their way to bow at the altar of Taylor Swift during every given live performance, McBryde stands out for keeping true to herself, and for keeping it all very real and country.
The music, the lyrics, the performance - along with a personality that makes you want to sit down with her, share a bottle of whiskey and talk music all night long - all make her a breath of fresh air. Because of that, her arrival on stage tonight comes with a legend-like arrival. People relate to her and her songs in a bare-bones, warts-and-all way. And they love her for it.
Opening with the straight-shooting ‘Blackout Betty’ - featuring the lyric “I'm starting to notice those smokers' lines, Your hands start shaking 'bout a quarter past five, Why can't I have just one glass of wine? Yeah, I'm a real piece of shit sometimes” - the tone is set. The band play their part in ensuring this, backing her with an oomph that only comes from a group that loves to play together.
As she works through the tongue-in-cheek ‘Brenda Put Your Bra On’ and ‘Whiskey and Country Music’, the crowd lap it up. A perfect moment, then, to take things down and bring us in with the ballad ‘Single at the Same Time’ - a beautiful tune about “what ifs” and “maybes” that, without one mention of Swift, has the crowd in awe and like putty in her hands.
McBryde and her band play together like a bunch of friends on a night out. You can see they enjoy being up there, doing their thing, in each other’s company. McBryde tells the audience that her drummer has been with her for years and even did a lot of the driving way back when, as she was trying to make her way up. This all adds to the honesty / real factor. I love it.
More songs about whiskey, love, beer and turning to things that do more-bad-than-good follow, and they’re all expertly crafted in their own right. But it’s the last song that seals the deal. On the face of it, the story told by ‘Bible and a .44’ is as out of place in England as maple syrup is when poured over bacon. But, it’s encapsulating.
As McBryde stands alone and sings about them “not being made like that no more”, we can all relate. This is a song about the kind of the safety and familiarity you feel when you think and long for someone you love implicitly. The impact that person can have on your life. And it resonates, massively. Tears were shed.
And just like that, she’s done. Twenty-two songs, as real as it comes. And while it sounds like I’m getting at Taylor Swift, I’m really not. Swift is just the poster girl for the latest iteration of country. But Ashley McBryde, for me, highlights how the unending amount of country music suddenly populating the UK airwaves is, perhaps, a genre in and of itself. And, while she can be affiliated with it, in part, McBryde is her own beast. Just like the country artists of old. That right there, sets her apart. I bloody love her.
