Gig review: Bill Ryder-Jones at Brudenell Social Club, Leeds

Wirral singer-songwriter Bill Ryder-Jones’ intimately observed songs are warmly received by a packed house.

Strumming his semi-acoustic guitar at the start of his set at the Brudenell Social Club, Bill Ryder-Jones appears to be in an impish mood. “That’s not tuned,” he observes, before adding with a mischievious nod to the rivalries between between West and South Yorkshire: “But it’ll do all right in Sheffield.”

Cue widespread laughter as he tweaks the strings to an acceptable “Leeds tuning”.

Now 16 years on from his departure from Wirral band The Coral, the singer-songwriter finds himself at 40 with the most widely acclaimed album of his career, and it’s from Iechyd Da that almost half of tonight’s 90-minute set derives, beginning with I Hold Something in My Hand, which pays subtle homage to the counter-melody within the Beach Boys’ God Only Knows.

It’s followed by Christina, whose bright tune leans towards another of Ryder-Jones’ acknowledged influences, Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci, then the achingly beautiful If Tomorrow Starts Without Me.

A sequence of songs from his 2013 album A Bad Wind Blows in My Heart includes the poignant Hanging Song, in which he suggests “Hanging onto things will only eat your heart”, and Anthony and Owen, a minor-chord reverie over childhood. The playful Wild Swans, that breaks down then picks up again with the repeated line “It’s not over until I say it’s over”, is also well received.

Delving into his 2015 album West Kirby County Primary, the delicate ballad Seabirds proves another highlight, even though Ryder-Jones jokingly tells the audience that the solo acoustic number is only scheduled in the set because union rules dictate that his six-piece band has to take a break and his brother Liam, one of tonight’s guitarists, needs to visit the bathroom.

There are more choice cuts from Iechyd Da, in the shape of I Know That It’s Like This (Baby), the wearily resigned A Bad Wind Blows in My Heart Part 3 and Nothing To Be Done, before Ryder-Jones and his band build to a climax with the fan-favourite indie chugger Two To Birkenhead – containing the killer lines: “Take me somewhere I’m not likely to forget/Two singles to Birkenhead” – and the Mercury Rev-like blowout of This Can’t Go On.

There’s no encore, but really one isn’t required. As a packed house filters out of the Brudenell into the night, they seem entirely happy with what they’ve seen.