A Master Class in Lyrical Precision and Bare-Knuckle Truth—James McMurtry at The Ram’s Head, Annapolis, MD. March 6, 2025
Americana Highways
Last Tuesday night, Donald Trump delivered the first State of the Union address of his second term. Two nights later, James McMurtry took the stage at The Ram’s Head in Annapolis and provided his own, far more unvarnished take on the state of the nation.
McMurtry’s songs aren’t overtly political (most of the time), but they often expose the realities of working-class life—economic hardship, disillusionment, and the slow erosion of the American dream. He doesn’t sermonize; he just tells the truth. And truth, in McMurtry’s hands, stings. “When you break it all down, it comes out the same,” he spits out on “Paint By Numbers.” On “Melinda,” it’s desperation: “There must be some way out of this / I was hoping you’d know.” “Copper Canteen” captures the weight of generational divide: “We grew up hard and our children don’t know what that means / We turned into our parents before we were out of our teens.”
These aren’t new songs. Some stretch back decades. But that’s the thing—McMurtry’s music isn’t stuck in time; it keeps meeting the moment. A James McMurtry concert isn’t an exercise in nostalgia. The songs remain just as urgent, and judging by the sold-out crowd hanging on every word, they’re needed now more than ever.
Best known for his storytelling, McMurtry is also a hell of a guitarist. Playing solo and acoustic, his intricate, expressive picking was on full display. His 12-string Takamine sounded like an orchestra, filling every inch of the venue. There’s nowhere to hide when you’re alone on stage, and McMurtry’s guitar work carried just as much weight as his lyrics.
He offered a promising preview of his upcoming album, The Black Dog and the Wandering Boy, due out this summer. “Sons of the Second Sons” stood out as both a history lesson and a pointed critique of modern-day America: “Nowadays we’re feeling stressed / It’s all for us and damn the rest.” “Pinocchio in Vegas” explored family dysfunction and the legal system, while a staggering cover of Kris Kristofferson’s “Broken Freedom Song” reinforced McMurtry’s deep reverence for his fellow songwriting giants.
The choice of pre-show music said a lot—mostly Bob Dylan, culminating with Blowin’ in the Wind just before McMurtry walked on. It was fitting. Like Dylan, McMurtry is an uncompromising storyteller who doesn’t cater to his audience. He doesn’t talk much, he barely smiles, and he certainly doesn’t pander. He plays the songs, lets the stories speak, and moves on. If Dylan’s later years are any indication, McMurtry won’t be changing that approach anytime soon.
Opening the night was Austin singer-songwriter BettySoo, who provided an intriguing counterpoint. While McMurtry sings about a society in decline, Soo focuses on personal heartbreak, though her songs carry no less emotional weight. “Most of my songs,” she joked, “start with two people together and end with them apart.”
Her eight-song set was filled with highlights, from the devastating Down to Goodbye (“It’s all come down to names and faces and places we’ve never been / It’s come down to goodbye”) to the beautifully somber Blackout (“By the way, I know I haven’t said enough that I believe in who you are”). Memento, from her upcoming album, was a standout, as was her stunning cover of McMurtry’s Gulf Road.
Despite her melancholy subject matter, Soo was warm and engaging, using humor and self-deprecation to draw the crowd in. The contrast between her easy charm and McMurtry’s stark, no-frills presence made for a compelling night of complementary performances.
James McMurtry and Betty Soo continue their tour across the country. Catch them if you can—McMurtry’s songs don’t just endure; they seem to gain more power with every passing year.
Photo Credit: Allison O’Brian, AOB Photo