The transition from Hartwell Littlejohn's set at Pete's Candy Store to TK Webb's was like a transition from standing to sitting, from washing your sorrows in booze all night to waking up sober and sicker still. Hartwell, who hails from Charleston, S.C., and today resides in Greenpoint, took the stage in scuffed boots, jeans and a work shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Backed by bright, full chords, he used plain language to honest ends. He mined traditional shttp://nypress.com/wcp/index2.phpouthern-blues territory—wine, pills, shame, Georgia—and the songs were charged with the authenticity so conspicuously lacking in most of the New York "anti-folk" scene. The slight drawl he sang with was still audible if only more subtle in his between-song banter. In the set's best moments, the guitar fell silent or quiet and Hartwell's straining, soulful and toneful voice rang out. For the last few songs, he brought in Leah Cary, lovely in a a white dress and milky-blond hair, to sing into a second mike. She swayed, flouncing her hand against her chest, sometimes crazy-eyed, while the two belted out some Gram Parsons covers.Next, TK Webb placed a chair in the spot where Hartwell had stood. The subdued but deft jingle on the high strings of his acoustic, the occasional nimble riff, let us know that he had some serious guitar chops but that his playing would not upstage the moody, breathy poetry he wanted us to hear. His bluesy songs were just as southern in style, but less so in theme, as he sang of "where the concrete meets the sky." Webb bore a striking resemblance to David Foster Wallace and likewise seemed to take himself deeply seriously. Each line was released as though by the end it had broken his heart. The small crowd in the back of Pete's Candy Store, especially the ladies, whooped and hooted after each song, urged him to sing another. They seemed to hang on every word of his dense and somewhat indirect lyrics. Earlier, Hartwell and Leah had closed their set with a full-blast rendition of "Love Hurts." Betraying his more literary muse, Webb invited the audience to ruminate along to a version of the Townes Van Zandt narrative, "Pancho and Lefty."
