Jelly Roll: fire, rain & red-hot redemption

On this the 38th show of his breakthrough “Beautifully Broken” tour, Jelly Roll treated me and 15 thousand tar heelers to a magnificent show in the Spectrum Center in downtown Charlotte that broke a lot of rules and made a few new ones. And made him a lot of new friends.

Jelly Roll’s show kicked off with a stroll through the audience to a second stage in the centre of the room—just feet from where I’d lucked onto a great seat for a good price next to the front-of-house mixing desk (of course)—with an intense rendition of “I am Not Okay”, a song of his own redemption and healing.

As he sang the frame of an imagined house erupted in flames above him. Now, we’re in a backwoods church, and the preacher is wrestling with the Devil and his own Demons and the fire and brimstone is real.

The next two hours is a flurry of fun—the man is as funny as a good drunken fuck—and his band were having an absolute ball. But the rest of the emotions got a good run as well. All around folks were falling about through tears, laughing and screaming for joy and all the while singing along, whooping and hollering fit to raise the roof on the joint.

It was, without doubt, the best live gig I’ve been to in years—the emotions, the spectacle, the glorious chaos and generosity of Jelly Roll’s spirit, the music and the showmanship—transported us all to other, better places.

For a couple of hours anyway.

And, while these big stadium shows are tightly choreographed, timed, cued-up and technified down to the last inch and second, Jelly Roll showed he can really reach out to the audience and at the same time cast a reflection on his own struggles.

What is clear—from this moment and the whole evening—is that Jelly Roll’s struggles have been—and maybe still are—genuine. This is of course a rare and very welcome attribute in an industry where every utterance by any public figure is scrutinised and sanitised by media minders, lawyers and managers.

His genuineness of spirit is plain to see—”Go Porkchop, Go Porkchop, GO!!” for his drummer, the “three angels” that are his backing singers—and how he gives each of them space and time to flex. He reaches out, “from Tenne-fucking-ssee, I love ya!!” to those still suffering from the devastation of Hurricane Helene in the western parts of North Carolina and urges the audience to donate to the recovery.

But best of all is when a fan produces a rough sign, a tribute to a relative that had passed, and hands it to Jelly Roll, who the speaks to the pain and loss embedded in those few words.

The rest of the show runs in similar vein, both of the support acts—Warren Zeiders and Alexandra Kay return for guest spots, we get a few country —John Denver, Garth Brooks, Shania Twain—and rock—Green Day—staples and the run out to the close of the with a flat-strap rendition of his country rock track “Liar”.

Then Jelly Roll dropped down into the audience again and made his way out to the second stage, where he was joined by Alexandra Kay for the finale, a majestic version of “Saved Me”—first underPromethean flame extinguished—washed away—by the rain.

The symbolism was stark, undeniable and uplifting. Jelly Roll, on stage in a rain shower, dripping wet and giving his all.

How in the name of whatever-God-you’ve-got Jelly Roll managed to get both fire and rain inside a packed stadium I don’t know … but damn it was effective.

Within minutes I and the rest of the audience—as rag-tagged a bunch of urban cowboys and cowgirls, fentanyl-, meth- and pot-heads, tweakers, dreadlocks, normies and the rest of us—were on the street, looking for a ride home and a moments pause to take it all in.

Would I be up for this show again?

In a heartbeat.

Should you go if you can?

As Mrs Lebowski said, “He’s a good man… and thorough.”