Spencer Cullum has always sounded like a man slightly out of step with the era he has been handed, and today that dislocation feels almost poetic. The British‑born, Nashville‑based songwriter and pedal‑steel conjurer made his latest record, ‘Coin Collection 3,’in the quiet refuge of a garden‑shed studio; an improvised sanctuary from the static and spite that pass for public discourse these days. Out of that retreat came a set of songs steeped in haze and clarity all at once, music that drifts through his mind like weather yet still to contend with the hard edges of the world outside. But on this bank‑holiday Monday in Ipswich, those edges soften. The venue is a modest, yet ornate church tucked into the town‑centre patchwork, glowing as sunlight pours through its aged windows. The audience settles onto wooden benches with a kind of reverent curiosity. And in this pocket of calm, it suddenly feels like Cullum’s meditative, luminous sound has found its ideal habitat. An ancient place, shielded from the modern horrors but with the welcome additions of a bar, vinyl record stall and toilets, and ultimately a perfect space to listen, feel and breathe.

The trilogy of ‘Coin Collection’ albums that have established Spencer’s reputation as a purveyor of delightfully pastoral shades, is said to be concluding with this latest release. They have all featured music that shimmers with the radiance of dawn to dusk electric folk, originally patented around fifty to sixty years back, whilst magically shining with the gloss of a sound that is freshly minted. Their occasionally subdued tones and quiet-storm lightness of touch can underplay a little just how accomplished a musician Spencer is. Anyone who has heard the closing track on an album called ‘Echolalia,’ released last year where Spencer played as part of a loosely formed group, will need no convincing that he has a range way beyond the templates of these three albums. But much like another favourite musician of mine, Richard Thompson, witnessing him in action before your eyes indisputably demonstrates how little he showboats in the recording studio, focusing on the requirements of the music ahead of any self-aggrandisement. He switches between acoustic guitar and pedal steel throughout, also accompanying fellow traveller and Coin Collective cohort, Rich Ruth, in an opening set that casts a real Floydian ambience over the room with its velvety electronic repetitions.

They are playing as a trio on this tour, the line up completed by Annie Williams on divine backing vocals and guitar; later when introducing them Spencer says they are people “I admire and think the world of” but listening to the way they embrace his music, it sounds like a feeling that runs both ways. During a cooly collected version of ‘Imminent Shadow,’ from the first album released in 2021, the floating sonic climate is brilliantly lacerated by brief flashes of electronic key noise from the hands of Rich. He really grabs hold of these songs and locks into the moments when a detonation from his box of audio wizardry can smash them open like a piñata. Annie too is utilised a lot more than merely for backing. Halfway through the set Spencer steps back, inviting Williams to take some lead vocals, firstly on a beautiful cover of a song called ‘The Mermaid.’ Annie tells us that Spencer had sent it to her before the tour and she sang it so much every day even her five-year-old would be humming it. That is no surprise for it is a hauntingly wonderous hymn, originally found on an ultra-obscure private pressing folk album from 1980 by Brenda Wootton on a label called Burlington. If this is in any way indicative of how deeply Spencer explores the folk backroads of Britain, I am mightily impressed. ‘The Mermaid’ is a highlight of the set and a fantastic discovery too.

Make no mistake though, Spencer Cullum’s music is the star of the show. I have greatly enjoyed his albums but have to say, immersing myself around these pieces in a live setting has taken them to the next level; I suspect this is where his work truly gets to thrive and grow. He has a charming Essex boy way about him too, joking that a track on the new album called ‘Easy Street’ sounds like the theme to the comedy ‘Only Fools And Horses.’ It is hardly anything like it but all the same, after planting the thought in my head it was hard to unhear the comparison. Later there is similarly good-natured badinage with the audience involving “super double thumbs up” approving acknowledgments and before a mesmeric take on ‘Gavon’s Eve,’ Spencer explains his reading the lyrics being down to forgetting them the day before, hampering Annie’s attempts to sing accompaniment while he “Bob Dylan’d it.” A spellbinding ‘Betwixt And Between,’ Ruth’s guitar blooming like acid‑tinged light, Annie’s vocals brushing the air with Pentangle’s ghost, ushers Cullum into the final stretch. By the end he looks replenished, almost reborn, and we are no less transformed. It is hard to believe another bank‑holiday weekend will ever close with such a sense of awakening, unless these same musicians return to this sanctuary once more.

Words: Danny Neill Photos: Sophie Reichert

The latest ‘Spencer Cullum’s Coin Collection 3’ album is available here: https://amzn.to/42gpe2R