Martin Harley
Saturday 10 Jan 2026
Whittington Community Hall, Worcester
Arguably the finest acoustic slide guitarist in these isles — and playing in Whittington? Just four miles away. How could I not book for Martin Harley?
The hall was sold out, packed to the rafters on a cold, icy night. Waiting on stage were his steel-bodied National resonator and his luthier-crafted Weissenborn Hawaiian guitar, sporting a neck like Mike Tyson.
With the obligatory Stetson firmly in place, Martin stepped up, cradled the resonator and drew us into the inviting warmth of Walking in the Morning Sun from his recent album. Don’t let the bonhomie fool you — we were soon led down a darker path with Trouble, Harley sliding into bluesy, downcast territory: trouble’s going to find him anywhere. A particular favourite of mine, perhaps an accord there.
Harley is a natural raconteur; there are always a few tales from the road. This one took us to India in an attempt — unsuccessful — to learn one of their fiendishly difficult instruments, though it did bring a dash of exotica to the opening of the superb Cardboard King, fingers and slide bar working overtime on that deep-throated guitar.
It turns out that films such as Paris, Texas and O Brother, Where Art Thou? inspired Martin to take up slide — a happy result all round. An effervescent Feet Don’t Fail Me carried us to another favourite, the song that “sold” me on his music: the fabulous Blues at My Window. Dark, slippery, an irresistible force that takes over your life. Surely this is what acoustic music is all about — it resonates in the soul.
More frivolity, with a few Kama Sutra references thrown in, led us to dreams of a Hawaiian Cowboy.
After the break came a pledge of sorts, as Martin shared a sweet Lemonade with us all. I’ll admit I’ll still be having the odd malt — lemonade will be nowhere in sight. A Canadian backwoods retreat with fellow musician Daniel Kimbro provided another great story and some new songs, including the babbling-water beauty Dancing on the Rocks.
We then went a little off piste with a Richard Thompson classic, Vincent Black Lightning ’52: a roguish rider, a besotted girl and a tragic ending — everything a great song needs. The Vincent remains legendary, still casting a Black Shadow over modern rivals.
Given the bitterly cold air outside, it felt entirely appropriate to wrap ourselves in the warmth of My Old Winter Coat — big enough for two; what could be better?
Martin appeared to take us out with the frenetic optimism of “life is worth living” and The Time Is Now — though not quite. He slipped in a couple of old blues numbers inspired by the Alan Lomax recordings, that astonishing archive of American music. Look them up.
A phenomenal evening with Martin Harley: a true master of slide guitar, playing on my doorstep. What more could you want? We all voted to finish in misery, and Huddie Ledbetter’s Goodnight Irene fitted the bill perfectly.
If you want to know what connects a Chrysler V8, a Victoria “jam” sandwich and pancakes — or a road journey with Brian Marrs — you’ll just have to catch a future gig.
Words: Graham Munn