Within this framework, Caitlin Harnett & The Pony Boys pose a unique and curious contrast.
On the local scene, the four-piece are basically an institution – anyone worth their salt has seen them in action at least a half-dozen times, kicking around the inner-west or effectively serving as the Lansdowne house band with their rollicking, rowdy take on alt. country.They know the song stories, they know the choruses and they know all too well about the nightly roasts of bassist Nick Ryan.
Tonight, however, as they make their debut in Sydney's Metro Theatre (1 March), they're acutely aware that large swathes of the audience will not know a note of their music.
Much like when the band opened for another North American cult country artist back in July – that being Orville Peck – they take the opportunity as a showcase for the story so far.
It's an effective approach, and one that has the already-packed theatre swaying along almost instantaneously. In a way, those that know Harnett and co.'s set inside out are almost envious of the Johnny-come-latelys in the room, getting to hear the resplendent misery of 'Make You Feel Blue' and the sly middle-finger of 'Rosie' for the first time.
Though it's coming on three years since the release of their debut album 'Late Night Essentials', lively renditions such as these have ensured that the songs don't yet feel stale.
Even if they did, however, there's a couple of new tunes in the mix as well, lifted from its to-be-announced follow-up. No doubt the crowds will be even bigger and the singing will be even louder once album two is out in the world.
Though a relatively recent discovery for many invested in America's burgeoning alt. country scene, Charley Crockett established himself among the upper echelon of the genre through a prolific output and a back-story that has long since become the stuff of legend.
The reception for his debut Australian show is wholly emblematic of the hype surrounding his music – originally scheduled to take place at Marrickville's Factory Theatre, the show sold out almost instantly and was moved into the Metro to accomodate the demand.
By the time the man of the hour slinks onto stage, it looks as though the sold-out sign has been hung up yet again – and it doesn't take long at all to see exactly why that's the case.
His striking presence is what reels you in first – all Johnny Cash swagger and George Strait strut.
Plenty before Crockett have wielded their guitar onstage while pretending it's a rifle, but not many have made you truly feel like you were about to have your head taken off by the thing – and that's where Crockett's conviction comes into play.
Whether he's performing one of his many top-shelf originals, like the spaghetti-western flair of 'The Man From Waco' or the pensive banjo-driven waltz of 'Lily My Dear', or embodying tracks from unsung heroes like James 'Slim' Hand or Tom T. Hall, you believe every word coming out of his mouth – to the point of hanging onto each one like you would a preacher or motivational speaker.
Compelling as Crockett is, of course, the 30(!)-song set truly comes to life thanks to his long-serving backing band, The Blue Drifters. No matter if they're tasked with turning the theatre into a honky-tonk bar, jamming on the blues or giving it a little bit of soul, this is an ensemble that nails the assignment every single time without fail.
Of particular note is Kullen Fox, a multi-tasker for the ages that can play the trumpet with one hand and the piano with the other without missing a beat. He'll even throw in some buttery vocal harmonies and some dainty accordion playing for free, while he's at it. The term "most valuable player" almost feels like a disservice.
For as rowdy as the audience is throughout the show, it's testament to Crockett's magnetism that he is able to draw the whole place to a standstill when he saunters out on his lonesome for the encore to give a stunning solo rendition of the Willie Nelson deep-cut 'Blackjack County Chain'.
Again, even when he didn't write the song itself, he performs it as if he not only wrote it but lived it. That's a rare and unique talent to have, and one that deserves celebrating when it's presented in such a stellar manner.
As we kick up our boots one last time for 'I'm Just A Clown', Crockett's mile-wide grin says it all. Even on the other side of the world, as far from the deep south of Texas as you're likely to get, a performer as one-of-a-kind as him breaks through any cultural barriers and just becomes an out-and-out showman.
If you're not saddled up by now, you might not ever be.
