Jerron Paxton
There is something so utterly compelling about his stage presence and his connection to the present moment, that the idea that there might be something anachronistic about his music seems absurd
There is a strange paradox to Jerron Paxton as a performer. Although the forms he uses to display his outstanding musicianship are at least a century old, there is something so utterly compelling about his stage presence and his connection to the present moment, that the idea that there might be something anachronistic about his music seems absurd. Throughout his set I – and I’d imagine the vast majority of a packed crowd – am transfixed. Here is a man so charismatic and effortlessly engaging that the nature of the music he is creating almost seems a secondary concern. I’m confident that he could have held the audience’s attention extremely effectively without playing a single note. Which is not to distract from the quality of the music he creates: he is, to be clear, absurdly talented.
Performing solo, he frequently switches between two banjos, acoustic guitar, fiddle, harmonica and bones (both vegan and animal). At one point he indicates his disappointment that there is not a piano on the stage, and informs us that he’ll likely continue his performance, after the official show has ended, on the upright piano in the Arts Centre bar. He is also, of course, a phenomenal singer with a warm, engaging voice that can easily fill the room a capella.
His latest album (Things Done Changed, released last year) is also the first to feature his own compositions. The fact that these are easily strong enough to blend into the wide range of traditional music that he draws from is testament both to his songwriting ability and the benefits of an immersion in these forms. As he explained in an NPR interview, he has been writing songs for a long time before choosing to record and release them: “songwriting is a funny part of the life of a folk musician. Most of us folk musicians tend to play our culturally inherited music, which isn't quite the same as doing covers of other people's music. But, you know, you play music that's reflective of your culture. And I've mostly done that. And every once in a while, something will inspire me, and it'll stick around.”
Thursday’s performance is an absolutely stunning demonstration of the benefits of this approach. A thorough knowledge of music that has developed over many, many generations enables the performer to recreate, draw from, and eventually, expand that repertoire. There is nothing remotely derivative about any of this. Although, in terms of form, this music appears old, it’s performance live is as startlingly present – and maybe even more so – than anything else around.
