Early James - Singing For My Supper (LP)

Drop the needle and the first thing you notice is the voice. Early James doesn’t sing so much as lean into a line, tugging at vowels until they fray at the edges, then letting them fall with a sly half-smile. Singing for My Supper, his debut, arrived in March 2020 on Dan Auerbach’s Easy Eye Sound, and it still feels like one of those rare first records that shows up fully formed. The Birmingham, Alabama native sounds ancient and brand new in the same breath, with songs that waltz between country blues, barroom jazz, and ragged folk without ever feeling like genre exercises.

Auerbach produced it at Easy Eye Sound in Nashville, a studio that favors feel over flash. You can hear it in the air around the instruments. The rhythm section nudges rather than pushes, guitars speak in asides, and the keys tuck in behind the vocal like a good bartender who knows when to top you off and when to talk you down. It is a classic Easy Eye move to assemble a few hardened pros, dim the lights, and capture a take that breathes. That approach flatters James, who writes with a crooked humor and sings like someone who has spent a lot of time listening to the room before opening his mouth.

Blue Pill Blues is the one that first turned heads. Lyrically it’s a tightrope walk, a plainspoken tangle of frustration and fog that never tips into self-pity. The arrangement stays clear of melodrama, giving James the space to chew on syllables and leave little claw marks on the chorus. High Horse, another standout, cuts with a different blade. Sharp fingerpicking, a melody that flicks ash off its sleeve, and a lyric about self-righteous posturing that lands harder than you expect. Not many writers can be this bitter and this funny at once. He pulls it off without blinking.

What surprises on repeat plays is the quiet sophistication of the band. Light brushwork on the drums, a ripple of organ here, a shadow of lap steel there. Nothing intrudes, everything serves the story. If you have a soft spot for Tom Waits’ mid-tempo barroom ballads or the haunted charm of early Randy Newman, you’ll likely find yourself at home, but James isn’t doing pastiche. He has his own gait, slightly off-center, a little suspicious of easy answers. When a chorus arrives, it often sidles in from the side door rather than marching down the main street. That unpredictability becomes its own kind of hook.

The timing stamped the record, too. It came out just as the world shuttered, and its hushed rooms and late-night confessions felt right for a spring where everyone was counting ceiling tiles. Plenty of albums from that season blurred together. This one kept popping back up, probably because the songs are built to last when the novelty burns off. It also set the stage for what came next. When his follow-up, Strange Time to Be Alive, landed a couple of years later, you could hear how this debut had established a voice that could handle bigger rooms without losing the slant.

If you chase sound quality, the Singing for My Supper vinyl is the way in. The mix opens up on wax, with the bass moving like a cat through the room and the cymbals cooling down to a pleasing hiss. Easy Eye Sound records tend to reward a good cartridge, and this one is no exception. I’ve seen the Early James vinyl tucked into new arrivals at more than one Melbourne record store, and it is the kind of sleeve you flip once, then turn around to read the credits while the clerk cues side A on the shop system. If you’re outside the city or hunting from the couch, it’s easy enough to buy Early James records online, and there are dependable shops shipping vinyl records Australia wide without the long wait.

Collectors who like a through-line in their shelves will appreciate how Early James albums on vinyl sit alongside other Easy Eye titles. There is a house sound to this label, a warm, lived-in feel, and James brings a darker, jazz-tinged twist to it. Singing for My Supper leans on that palette without getting stuck there. It is a songwriter’s record that respects the groove, a singer’s record that trusts the song.

Also useful if you keep an eye on buzz versus substance. Critics at places like Rolling Stone and NPR gave this one a nod when it dropped, and going back now, the praise holds up. The tunes are sturdy. The playing is tasteful. The voice is a world of its own. If you’re crate-digging and spot Singing for My Supper vinyl in the wild, don’t overthink it. Take it home, dim the lights, let the room get quiet. James will handle the rest.