Review: Sun Kil Moon, Colston Hall

“How you doing?” says Mark Kozelek at the start of his LauLand set. “We’ll get through this.” And in that one sentence he reveals two important things about tonight’s gig. Firstly, it’s going to be a long one – 2.5 hours straight, no break, no support. Secondly, his songs will be interspersed with snippets of his bone dry humour.

Sauntering onto the grand old stage of Colston Hall and playing to a moderate crowd – of mostly men – Sun Kil Moon provide the swansong for LauLand Bristol. It’s been a brilliant weekend of folk acts old and new, and now it’s the turn of Mark and co. who, as the organisers point out, may be more Americana than folk but are just as worthy of a slot at this festival.

There are some instantly recognisable themes which run through Sun Kil Moon’s repertoire – tales of family and childhood and more names of people than you can shake a stick at as well as the odd innocent mention of a serial killer or deranged sociopath. It paints a picture of a soft-hearted old romantic who uses his songs as a vehicle for his complex emotions. Like the words from a diary put to beautiful tunes and shared with the world

Opening with the subtle and poignant Micheline, he weaves in and out of the shadows on the dark stage before building the soothing tones into an angsty shout. 

Backed by three accomplished musicians, Mark makes it pretty clear where his respect lies – hailing guitarist Neil Halstead (of Slowdive fame) as someone who can do no wrong. “There’s a few hundred quid in this for you if you don’t f*ck the start of this song up,” he taunts rhythm guitarist Dave Devine and ‘bodyguard and drummer’ Mike Stevens, who’s been playing drums since the age of nine. 

Then they go and play it too fast and Mark pulls out his conductor routine, swaying his arm around in time to his internal Metronome as he wanders around the stage. There’s a moment where you wonder whether he’s being serious, but a few sarcastic jokes down the line and you realise it’s just Mark being Mark. 

“This is a lot nicer than that boat I usually play on,” he barks. “That makes me want to kill myself. What’s it called?” To which a couple of obliging audience members yell ‘Thekla’. “F*ck Thekla!” he says, “F*ckla.” Oh dear. He then goes on to reminisce about playing a church here. To which one of the audience replies: “Brighton”. Same difference, huh?

Among the highlights includes a heart-wrenching rendition of Ali/Spinks 2, where his stream of consciousness name-checks RY Cooder, Rob Zombie and Marx, Freud and Einstein as well as True Detective, Southern Comfort and Riders on the Storm.

“Everyone doing OK?”, he asks as we approach 10.30pm, two hours into his Springsteen-length set. “Cos there’s a lot more left.”

Those drifters are awoken as Mark invites an unsuspecting Slowdive colleague Rachel Goswell up on stage from the audience (thanks to a leg up from someone on the front row). What follows is a seemingly impromptu duet of Sonny & Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe’. Poor Rachel doesn’t know what’s going on, but does her best under the circumstances and they seem to have fun.

There’s a debut airing of Little Rascals off the new album Universal Themes, which he unapologetically points out is out tomorrow when he’ll be doing the ‘real show’ in London. He says: “This is just the warm up, so we’ll try it out with you guys.” Privileged.