Steve Earle @ The Glasgow Royal Concert Hall

From the "God knows how I'm no' deid" school of country rock comes Steve Earle, the last of the hardcore troubadours. It's a strangely low key affair, not helped by early technical problems, underpowered vocals and out of tune guitars. "We cannae hear you Steve," comes one shout. "I didn't understand a fuckin' word you just said," comes the Texan retort. Once someone realises the amp would probably function better in the 'on' position, things move up a gear, and big hitters like The Devil's Right Hand and My Old Friend the Blues come thick and fast. But the worrying lack of drums on stage, though bizarrely compensated for by the late appearance of a guy with a mixing desk, means we're denied the sheer bone-rattling majesty of Copperhead Road in anything but acoustic form. The bottom line is, Steve Earle just doesn't belong at a venue as genteel as the GRCH. [Paul Greenwood]