Johnny Blue Skies & The Dark Clouds entered the stage to the sound of a heavy descending guitar riff like something out of a doom metal track. Then the disco ball turned on, and Sturgill Simpson started playing a smoky blues guitar solo over jazz chords. The introduction then resolved in the funky syncopated groove of “Venus,” which was soon graced by the hearty twang of Simpson’s voice, country to the bone.
The sequence worked well as an overture for a night when Simpson and his band would roam all over the stylistic map. Kentucky-born Simpson is one of the greatest singer-songwriters of his generation, though he says he doesn’t care about such distinctions. He’s a naturally gifted vocalist, capable of conjuring timeless depths of emotion and authority with every bleary howl, and his lyrics are often as memorable as his voice is classic.
His catalog contains aching beauty, snarling swagger, saucy licks, smoking grooves — the whole classic rock radio dial mixed in alongside outlaw country, bluegrass, and many kinds of dance music. He’s good at so many things, and a bunch of them were on display Wednesday night in Columbus. Only when Simpson leaned into jam-band aesthetics did the show fall flat.
The statement announcing this year’s Johnny Blue Skies album Mutiny After Midnight included a preview of the Mutiny For The Masses tour: “We're going out to play arenas and theaters with a vengeance. We're going to take every minute the venue gives us. We're gonna rock this Mutiny as hard as humanly possible.
It is our privilege and our honor because our fans deserve it.” They did indeed play for three hours Wednesday night at a half-full Nationwide Arena, which meant there was more than enough time to indulge Simpson's best and worst tendencies. This guy does what he wants; defiance has long been his defining trait. And one thing he apparently wants right now is to kick off his shows by evoking Phish.
About seven minutes in, a smooth saxophone solo broke out. About 12 minutes in, drummer Miles Miller broke into a double-time beat straight out of a 2004 dance-punk song. It was interesting, but it did not play to Simpson’s strengths like the bluegrass-informed “Railroad Of Sin,” a song that raced along like Yonder Mountain String Band on a runaway train.
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