Withered Hand – The Borderline, London, 13/10/2011

With his high-pitched nasal voice, be-stickered old acoustic guitar and tales of wanking on his friend’s sofa, Dan Willson, aka Withered Hand, is an unlikely star. But in the two years since he release his debut album Good News, support for the man has grown in the form of a driving tailwind.

The decision by US immigration to bar him from the country before SXSW earlier this year (they claimed he wasn’t a musician of “extraordinary ability”) led to a near month-long residency on the UK indie community’s social media streams and appearances in the national press. In the end, common sense prevailed. Dan, with his guitar and a legion of new fans, boarded the plane to Austin. Withered Hand: one, The Man: nil.

It’s this kind of classic pro-underdog narrative that delves right to the root of Willson’s appeal. Good News is one of the finest records of the past five years. Willson has the tunes to go with the tears and what might, in lesser hands, have been forty minutes of sob stories, is instead a knowing, self-deprecating, beautiful, black comedy masterpiece. And so, whilst it’s initially surprising to see London’s Borderline so heaving of a Thursday in October, it’s fully understandable. The word, it would seem, is out.

Dan and his band (who’ve spent the day travelling down from Edinburgh with “only a few hours of sleep”) are joined on stage by Darren Hayman, of Hefner fame. It’s an appropriate pairing (much of the description above could have copied and pasted onto a Hayman review), and helps add to the jubilant atmosphere. Willson is given a hero’s welcome, and launches straight into an appropriately solo take on ‘No Cigarettes’, a tale of alienation and domestic misery. The lack of sleep seems, oddly, to have invigorated Withered Hand. The banter is grand, and the lyrically well-versed crowd are in boisterous form. Bizarrely, considering he’s traveled all day to be here, it has the feel of a homecoming show, there’s a warm glow in the air, smiles compulsory.

The setlist is a relatively comprehensive play through of Good News, with a smattering of new songs to break it up. The new material feels more punchy and punky, without being wholly detached from the older tracks. They go down well, but the biggest response of the night is reserved for a rollicking version of ‘New Dawn’ and the rousing ‘Religious Songs’, faithfully sung back by the misty-eyed crowd. A request from the front “for my imaginary friend, Seamus” brings a confused chuckle from Willson. Perhaps he’s delirious, from lack of sleep, but smile he might; for this was a fantastic show by a man, and a band, whose star is clearly on the rise.