Kurt Vile, Europa, New York

As Kurt Vile sets up his equipment, it quickly becomes apparent that this performance is to be a solo show. Arming himself with two guitars - both acoustic, one a twelve-string - and a veritable constellation of effects pedals, the young Philadelphian makes no moves to prepare for additional musicians.

Throughout the night, Vile’s sole reliance on himself proves both an asset and a detriment to his performance. This could be an odd criticism, as Vile is, in all regards, a solo musician; he plays most of the instruments on his albums and records them at home on lo-fi equipment. However, as a performer, Vile could learn to lean on his fellow man.

Solo, the songs of Philadelphia’s constant hitmaker sound a little rougher. Vile is far from unskilled as a musician, yet his mastery of low-tech recording arts is readily apparent during the course of his set. Songs that usually flirt with classic rock inspiration and fully utilise the textures of four-track recording, become something spectral when stripped of their multi-tracked flesh.

An element of drone music creeps in to the performance early on and it becomes easier to see why Vile appears on Blues Control’s latest album. A good deal of the songs cling to repetitious chord structures that rise and ebb beneath the meandering of Vile’s lyrics. The musician seems intent on straying from his more accessible songs like ‘Freeway’ or ‘Best Love’ and concentrates on his slacker shaman incantations.

One of the most striking parts of Vile’s performance is the way it exposes the blues-ier elements of his guitar playing. His technique, and chord mapping, creates a song structure that balances the drone elements with solid blues figures. It’s difficult to shake the feeling that Kurt Vile could be sitting on a porch in the South. If he’d played with a tambourine and stomp box, the feeling would have been inescapable.

Kurt Vile’s voice seems cloaked in a permanent smirk more often than not, and this lends his songs an unavoidable slacker charm. Truly, the smirk and charm come from Vile’s internal knowledge that he’ll be making music for a long time, regardless of who’s listening.