TEJON STREET CORNER THIEVES

Now, just to provide you with some context, I’d like to mention that I usually require a borderline excessive amount of justification to buy any item over £15. Not even in the sensible way either – in a ‘this is a £25 pair of glasses that you need in order to see your hand in front of your face, stop being an idiot’ kind of way. That’s the sort of person we’re talking about here.

But the other night, I spent £30 on band merch with barely two minutes of deliberation. I didn’t even regret it, either. I think this gives you quite an insight into my thoughts on the band in question.

(To be fair, it was also a fucking awesome shirt in its own right.)

Tejon Street Corner Thieves are a self-prescribed blues & trash grass trio from across the pond, and they join a growing number of artists who’re injecting a new lease of life into the folk genre that made its name in the USA. They’re currently touring the UK with another gothic folk legend, Amigo the Devil, and I was lucky enough to catch wind of their gig at The Wardrobe just a week before they were due to play.

This, I felt, was fate. I have a playlist that’s packed out with songs by both artists, and could not believe that they’d travelled all the way over from America to perform at a venue literally five minutes away from my home. It would’ve been criminal to miss it. My Spotify account would never have forgiven me.

I initially downloaded their songs for the same reason anyone listens to anything: they invoked a reaction within me, they were catchy, and they were great to sing along to while doing the dishes. But seeing them live felt like another level entirely – for the first time since discovering their music, I got to see how they were as people, not just musicians. How did they engage with the crowd? How did they talk to eachother? What did they like to drink?

(Whiskey. The answer was overwhelmingly whiskey. A strong 70% of the songs they played were about whiskey.)

Tejon Street Corner Thieves have an undeniably powerful presence. This became clear from the moment they wandered onto the stage, beers in hand, and began chatting about how they planned on getting wasted, and whether or not their guitarist would get lucky on Christian Mingle/ Tinder/ Cougar Life/ Grindr that night (props to him for casting his net wide). Their banter was immediate and fun; it put the audience at ease, and yet it paled in comparison to the raw, natural talent that all three of them held in spades. Vocals from the lead guitarist Shawn and banjo-wielding frontman Connor were utterly insane. The power and range both of them had was unlike anything I’ve ever heard before, and it added a whole new edge to the songs that I already knew and loved, purely for the fact that I was seeing with my own eyes what kind of talent really went into performing those songs.

Of course, they did it all while being fed Jaegerbombs by the headline act, who briefly popped on stage in order to dole the shots out. I got the impression they weren’t even trying that hard; they were just effortlessly fantastic. These two guys made A-listers sound like pure shit. They could’ve outsung the likes of Ed Sheeran in between chain-smoking Marlborough Golds and sinking a bottle of overproof rum – something they’ve probably already done without even breaking a sweat before.

I was fortunate enough that all of my favourite tracks from their discography ended up being played: Whiskey, .44, Lay Low and Demons graced the setlist, as well as a great cover of Minnie the Moocher and a few that I hadn’t listened to before. They performed each and every one with passion and theatricality, and regularly included the audience, making it feel like a communal event as opposed to an isolated, sterile concert. Halfway through, bassist Julie candidly informed everyone that the instrument she was playing that night had initially been found second-hand and covered in cat piss.

Honestly, the entire set was just one big riot. Leaning into the fact that their genre was somewhat amorphous (country/ neofolk / bluegrass / what I like to call ‘Cowboy music’ / etc / etc) meant that they had room to move, musically speaking, and I think that freedom gave them a confidence on stage - not to mention the fact that they all interacted with one another like they were genuinely just having a good time and enjoyed being there. I know that sounds like a pretty basic element of performing, but you’d be surprised at the stubborn insistence so many bands have of trying to act mysterious and cool and above it all. British artists could definitely stand to learn a thing or two about American showmanship. We’re all so bloody desperate to be taken seriously all the time around here.

(I’ve mentioned this before, but Alex Turner really has done irreparable damage to the cultural concept of the English frontman. I pray for the day we as a society finally move on.)

With their eclectic mix of light-hearted shanties and darker, gothic folk stories, listening to their live music was a journey in every sense of the word. While one song morosely described the haunting stories of a handful of old-timey no-gooders, utilising a slow, plodding beat and deep bass notes; the song that immediately followed was an energetic jig which detailed the many benefits of being shamelessly devoted to the consumption of whiskey.

It kind of made you feel like you were living the life of an 18th century saloon keeper. And what more could a girl possibly want from a gig?

Unfortunately, all good sets must come to an end. I could’ve listened to them for ages, but the wretched schedule meant that I had to make do with just under an hour before they waved us goodbye and headed backstage, presumably to drink more Jaegerbombs and beer. And maybe to see who was active on Grindr.

Make no mistake: I absolutely loved the headline act, but for me, it was Tejon Street Corner Thieves who stole the show. Flowing melodies fitted seamlessly into one another, inescapable rhythmic hooks made it utterly impossible to stand still, and two vocal powerhouses ruled the stage with timbres that felt as if they’d been produced in a laboratory for this exact genre of music. It was as captivating as it was raucous, and now sits comfortably in my top 3 gigs of all time.