Jason Isbell and Joy Oladokun Reign Supreme at the Ryman

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
Photo: Britton Strickland

On Saturday, Joy Oladokun took to the Ryman’s stage for the first time to open night seven of Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit’s eight-night residency. She said what many artists are probably thinking the moment they look up and see the pews, crowd and iconic stained-glass windows: “This is crazy! This is the Ryman!”

“I don’t know if you knew, but I know,” she added with a laugh. “People have been reminding me all day. A nice white man gave me champagne!”

After the audience laughed and applauded, Oladokun explained the “nice white man” was her manager, garnering even more laughter and applause. Oladokun, along with backup singer Jaime Woods and keyboardist/guitarist Elliott Skinner, began her Mother Church debut with “If You Got a Problem,” a buoyant Stevie Wonder-inspired pep talk she wrote for her girlfriend.

Joy Oladokun with Jason Isbell
Photo: Britton Strickland

I’ve been following Oladokun since I heard her song “Sunday” in 2019, and she has made it a point to share the stories behind her songs and give fans snippets of her day-to-day life. She kept up the tradition at the Ryman, but somehow it felt different. Her vulnerability commanded the room with a force that could never be experienced through Instagram or Twitter.

Oladokun and her band played “Sorry Isn’t Good Enough,” a smoldering and pissed-off fuck-you from the complete edition of her debut album In Defense of My Own Happiness, released in July. The song is about “dating someone who was not dating me back,” she told the crowd with a laugh. “But I was trying anyway. … She broke my heart, because that’s how those things always go.” A little later in the set came “Smoke,” the opener of last year’s In Defense of My Own Happiness (The Beginnings), which was subtitled Vol. 1 on its initial release. The tune smolders in a different way. “I have social anxiety, and I have to be around people for a living,” she explained, “so I smoke pot. This song’s about that.”

Each honest and often funny story she told received more supportive cheers and applause. Many of us in the room have felt that heartbreak and have tried to quiet that anxiety too. Once the audience was fully mesmerized, she turned up the heat. Oladokun, who is Black and a child of Nigerian immigrants, spoke about being born just a few months before the 1992 Los Angeles Riots. She’s seen little change.

“We’re waving flags saying we’re the greatest country in the world,” she said, “and people die on our watch. Regularly, without any accountability. And I’m not a fan that so many of them look like me and talk like me and walk like me and love like me, quite honestly. So when I watched this happen for the 80th time in my lifetime, I decided to write this song called ‘I See America.’

“It is about the tension between America the ideal and America the reality. … It’s not a perfect place, and I strive every day to make this country a compassionate, hospitable place for everybody. And honestly, go fuck yourself if you don’t agree.”

On its own, “I See America” is gripping, but halfway through the song on Saturday, Oladokun’s guitar work took an unexpected turn. She started to veer away from “I See America” and began to play an eerie, familiar riff. It took me a few seconds to place it, but then it hit me … it was the motherfucking intro to “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” My God, Oladokun sandwiched Nirvana’s anti-conformity anthem into her own song about seeing the problems that America tries to ignore. Then the band did a live mash-up, singing the chorus of “I See America” over the music of “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” You’re goddamn right it received a standing ovation.

After the applause died down, Oladokun grinned. “Didn’t think you were gonna see a soft butch playing Nirvana on an acoustic, did ya?”

Our first sighting of Isbell came next, when he joined Oladokun onstage to add a searing guitar solo — as he did in the studio — on Oladokun’s just-released Spotify single, a cover of Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me.” Oladokun was one of eight different women to open a show on Isbell’s eight-night run: Amanda Shires kicked things off on Oct. 15, followed by Brittney Spencer, Mickey Guyton, Amythyst Kiah, Shemekia Copeland, Allison Russell and Oladokun, with Adia Victoria wrapping it up on Oct. 24. Over the past two weeks, my social media feeds have been filled with praise, video clips and inspired wonder for each of these women. These shows are as much about them as they are about Isbell.

Not that the headliner and his longtime band The 400 Unit have anything to worry about when it comes to being upstaged. (Though Shires played with the group during some of the residency shows, she was not onstage Saturday, so guitarist Sadler Vaden, keyboardist Derry deBorja, bassist Jimbo Hart and drummer Chad Gamble filled out the lineup.) Isbell & Co. took the fans on a two-hour rock ’n’ roller coaster with thoughtful and humanist songs from his solo albums and from his former band Drive-By Truckers.

Live, many of the tunes were surprisingly explosive. “What’ve I Done to Help,” the remorseful opener of 2020’s Reunions, outlined a failing relationship with intricate guitar and keys that drove the song into ferocious and urgent territory. “Be Afraid,” also on that record, shone brighter too, becoming a commanding call-to-arms rock anthem that Dave Grohl would probably love to have written.

Of course, Isbell flexed his guitar-god muscle throughout, stunning the crowd with solos played across seven different six-strings, by my count. In the 19-song set, I clocked an acoustic, an SG, a Stratocaster, a Telecaster, a Les Paul, a 335 and a resonator guitar.

And that Les Paul — which may have been the Redeye owned by the late, great Ed King and now in Isbell’s care — contributed to an especially captivating version of DBTs’ “Danko/Manuel.” The song, about the deaths of The Band’s Rick Danko and Richard Manuel, has always been haunting, but Isbell and band made it feel heavier and eerier, with the slow, repetitive beat moving at the pace one might have when hesitantly checking the house for ghosts. According to my notes, the guitar solo sounded like “a slow murder scene in the twist ending of a film.”

Then, after stunning performances of fan-favorite love songs “Cover Me Up” and “If We Were Vampires,” Isbell and the 400 Unit all but burned the house down with a cover of The Rolling Stones’ “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.” It was so raucous and joyful even Jagger might have had a hard time keeping up with it.

If there were any ghosts — or perhaps embittered, closed-minded conservatives — lingering in the Ryman, Oladokun and Isbell exorcised them all.