Jake Xerxes Fussell Live Show Review: 10/17, Empty Bottle, Chicago
Jake Xerxes Fussell
BY JORDAN MAINZER
Over the years, Jake Xerxes Fussell's repertoire and sound have expanded, though he's never lost sight of his exploratory ethos. On his self-titled debut and sophomore effort What in the Natural World, he introduced himself as a contemporary troubadour, an interpreter who used original arrangements to surface the universal meaning out of old songs. 2019's Out of Sight was his first record with a full band, 2022's Good and Green Again his first to combine traditional songs with wholly original compositions. In July, Fussell brought it all together on his debut album for Fat Possum, When I'm Called; it's an album featuring a murderer's row of collaborators and songs that Fussell constructed backwards, coming up with melodies and riffs before adapting them to folk songs that fit.
On When I'm Called, legends Fussell knew who may or may not have met each other, like cowboy artist Maestro Gaxiola and painter, musician, and folklorist Art Rosenbaum (a mentor of Fussell's who passed away in 2022), are intimate bedfellows. Fussell lifts from the public domain, Benjamin Britten, and found poetry on a scrap of paper. Returning are close collaborators like James Elkington, in the producer's chair and playing seemingly everything from synth to harmonica, as well as Joan Shelley, singing alongside Fussell's baritone on "Cuckoo!". Uniting with Fussell for the first time are guitar luminary Blake Mills, whose abstract tones nestle between Fussell's acoustic guitar and Elkington's pedal steel on "Going to Georgia", and Hunter Diamond, whose woodwinds pop up just when you need them most, like a consistent smiling face around the neighborhood. In general, on When I'm Called, more than ever, the band gets room to meander, to take in their surroundings.
Fussell & Ben Whiteley
How, then, would Fussell, who usually plays solo, adapt the arrangements not just to a live stage, but for a crowd who has had months to take in the recorded versions? Indeed, Thursday's show at the Empty Bottle featured the youngest crowd I've ever seen at a Fussell headlining show. Some of that, perhaps, had to do with the venue itself and the start time of his set (after 10 P.M.). But something tells me, at this point, people are less inclined to hear beloved old songs and more amped for Fussell specifically, the guitar player who picks bright-eyed on "Jump for Joy", the singer who belts, "Well, wake up woman, take your big leg off of mine," on "Have You Ever Seen Peaches Growing on a Sweet Potato Vine?". (I went to get a beer at the bar as he sang, passing by a crowd member cackling, turning to their friend and declaring, "I love that line!") Well, for one, Fussell didn't play solo this time. He was always accompanied by bassist Ben Whiteley, who plays on When I'm Called. Whiteley's steady plucking eased us into "Michael Was Hearty", and his rhythms buoyed Fussell's chugging guitars on an unexpected, but great cover of Nick Lowe's new wave classic "I Love The Sound of Breaking Glass". As we were in Chicago, Elkington, too, joined Fussell on stage for a number of songs, providing contrasting guitar textures on "Cuckoo!" Even The Weather Station's Tamara Lindeman, all the way from Toronto, was in the crowd and came on for backing vocals.
Fussell
It's easy to say that what is usually a lonesome affair turned into a party, given that the number of people on stage at any given moment quadrupled from its usual number. The more I thought about it, though, whether it's four musicians crowding around each other or just Fussell perched on a stool, his shows are always communal. On Thursday, the most affecting and memorable moments of the night were spontaneous. Out of Sight's "Jubliee" started as a singalong and felt like a full-on hymnal towards the end, the crowd repeating, "Swing and turn, Jubilee / Live and learn, Jubilee," like it was a mantra of keeping-on. And then there was "Donkey Riding", a traditional song which does not (yet) have a studio version, inspiring the biggest, and somehow still most polite sing-and-clap-along of the night. The moment the crowd seemed to get a tad too rowdy, we shushed each other so we could hear one last instrumental flourish, one last guitar lick from the artist who continues to give us gifts we didn't even know we already had.