Langhorne Slim. The best since Otis Redding.

Langhorne Slim

Langhorne Slim, he's a different kind of artist soul. Charcoal graveled cheeks, crooked hat, dark brooding eyes and tattoo-covered arms, I think he might be the most recklessly brave musician I have ever encountered.

With Slim, it isn't just a performance, it's a diary sung from the gut.

He's the best since Otis Redding. 

I've seen him at Luck and in Austin this week, big crowds or intimate affair, the pulse was the same: Very little breathing room. Audiences anchored in his space. Hearts tangled up wildly inside his lyrical maze.

His lyrics grieved change, spill-over worries and pain. No word left his lips without a hard shake. When he sung, he took off all the layers. Completely vulnerable, he infused lyrics with life. He made rocks orgasmic.

I wondered why he wasn't ragged from leaving it all on stage. But, then, I saw him smile and I understood.

After Austin's show, he said that he may not be a rich man, but in doing what he loves, he "is rich in many ways."

He left us feeling pretty rich too.