Live At The Sugar Club, Dublin

By all accounts, Willy Mason lives out of a van, which is currently stationed in California while he embarks on his European tour. Listening to his minimalist set packed with worldly, well-travelled gems, it certainly shows.
It being his first Irish show, Mason is predictably a little tipsy (“Hell, I even drink like an American,” he drawls). Although he has become something of a media darling of late, he seems slightly disoriented by tonight’s rapturous reception.
In the dense fog of acoustic troubadours, 20-year-old Mason stands out for a number of reasons. While tonight’s renditions of ‘Where The Humans Eat’ and ‘Oxygen’ are breathtaking in their simplicity, it’s the juxtaposition between Mason’s fresh-faced appearance and his calloused, stubbled folk persona that reels the listener in.
Essentially, his is a sun-dried, Southern-fried kind of sound, reminiscent of the likes of Hank Williams and Woody Guthrie. Then, Mason confounds the audience by admitting that he wrote the lyrics to most of his songs while still in high school.
In much the same way that Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst gilds his musings with an earnest, heartfelt edge, Mason’s old-world folk music is largely characterised by the wonderment of someone that has just emerged from the cocoon of adolescence. The songs may be heavy with wisdom and knowing, but there’s much to suggest that Mason has recently felt the rush of pain and heartbreak for the very first time.
It's purported that the laid-back Mason travels from town to town not only to showcase his music, but also as a way for him to make new friends. Tonight, it’s safe to say he just made a whole bunch of ‘em.