Phil Campbell @ King Tut's

The fact that Phil Campbell doesn't pen his alt-country odes on an old rockin' chair out by the porch will come as a surprise to those who don't already know him. Throughout tonight's intimate set, his bourbon-sippin', old-country illusion is broken only by a single, whispered apology for the lack of banter, delivered in a soft Glaswegian accent. In the absence of any patter, Campbell simply delivers a set of wounded ballads, shot through with heartfelt sorrow, telling the tale of a lost decade, through which he has struggled against the ghosts of an early, failed promise. Tonight, however, his delivery is perfect throughout, and his talent demanding of far greater attention than the clutch of fans huddled around Tut's small stage can provide, despite their rousing appreciation. Crooning through current single Cold Engines, this unassuming troubadour equals kindred spirit Ryan Adams from every vantage, but for now, sadly remains a great talent, tragically unrecognised. [Paul Neeson]