Photograph by Dilip Vishwanat
At a recent open-mic night in South City, Jesse Irwin and a friend were talking about homemade French bread—particularly Irwin’s homemade French bread, which had recently been turning out a little denser than usual—when Irwin hopped up and declared, “I’m going to play the drums!” He bounded onstage, joined fellow local musicians Justin Brown and Ray Brewer and launched into a song about heartache and alcoholism. And despite the fact that Irwin’s skill with the kit can’t touch his considerable guitar chops—which, along with his knack for clever songwriting and grassroots approach, have earned him a considerable following—he kept the beat, even scoring a laugh from the audience with an impromptu whack of the crash cymbal at a point when the song needed it least. Recognizing its effect on the crowd, Irwin grinned from ear to ear, his brown eyes squinting and his head bobbing as he giggled. When the song finished, the audience roared, and the one-song drummer waved and exited with his playful pigeon-toed gait. His size-8 cowboy boots tapped the steps as he walked offstage, where a small crowd clapped and congratulated him on his valiant effort.
Even as the local music scene wavers after the closing of respected venues like Mississippi Nights and Frederick’s Music Lounge, Irwin’s unrelenting optimism continues to push him forward—he’s dedicated to keeping the beat alive. And now, after years of “familiar face” status in small clubs, he’s poised for a minibreakout. On May 12, he and his honky-tonk and ’70s-country group, the Dock Ellis Band, will host the Country and Western Showcase at Off Broadway with two other bands.
There are some artists who only play for the money, fame and perks, and then there are others, like Irwin, who play for the audience. When Irwin, guitar in hand, glass of scotch at arm’s length, stands onstage with a microphone and a crowd in front of him, he’s not just strumming and singing from his songbook of catchy country-and-Western tunes (and a few covers thrown in for good measure); he’s performing. “My goal is to capture an audience’s attention,” he says, “make them laugh, make sure they’re having a good time.”
On the surface, songs like “Iraq & Roll,” “South Side Surfin’” and “Strip Mall” might seem trivial, but those titles are just a clever cover for something much more political. “There are things that make me mad, but I can’t really change them,” he says, the slight twang he picked up as a youngster in De Soto shining through, “so I mock them, and that makes me feel better.”
Take his song “Laduesier”:
You live in a house for a family of 10, but you’ve got a family of two/You’re a Laduesier, a Laduesier—a hoosier that lives in Ladue
“I’d like to sound the alarm musically and make people think about what they’re doing,” he explains, “not to preach but to point out several things that are pretty obvious to me that maybe people aren’t noticing.”
Despite the recent venue closures, Irwin says that “music is alive and well”—he just wants a little help from mainstream radio stations to entice a local fan base to hear local music. Of course, that’s not to say he’s not willing to do his part; Irwin takes his pseudopolitical act with him to local bars and builds a following wherever he can—sometimes in places where people are least expecting to hear live music. It isn’t strange to find him talking to strangers who recognize him on the street, sending out free CDs requested by random people who have only heard his songs on MySpace (myspace.com/jesseirwin) or agreeing to cover a gig for a musician friend who is ill. It’s all part of his grassroots approach.
“There might be only 10 or 15 people at a bar, but you can sit down and talk to them and give them your music,” he says. “You can really build fans one at a time, almost the way a politician goes around knocking on doors.”
