Following stroke, Lucinda Williams revisits her life at poignant, personal Milwaukee show

Lucinda Williams has given the world 15 studio albums and inspired countless singer-songwriters since 1979.

In the wake of a major health setback, she's giving so much more.

Almost three years to the day after suffering a stroke, Williams, 70, is busier than ever, releasing her latest album "Stories From a Rock n Roll Heart" and her memoir, "Don't Tell Anybody the Secrets I Told You."

And she's touring too, performing at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee Thursday for the fourth stop of a fall run. (Actually, it was her second Milwaukee show since that stroke; she also had a gig here in 2022.)

Walking to the stage with assistance from a crew member, Williams said she wouldn't be able to play guitar Thursday because of "that damn stroke" — a temporary setback, she vowed to cheers from the crowd.

What she did offer, however, was a show unlike any she'd ever done before this tour: a thorough retrospective, accompanied by old photographs, family videos and other visuals, tracing her life and career, with in-depth stories, up to seven minutes long each, preceding 16 of the 2½-hour set's 21 songs.

In terms of a comparison, Bruce Springsteen's solo Broadway show comes to mind. But where the Boss clearly polished his folksy words of wisdom, Williams' stories Thursday, while structured to accompany a pre-set setlist, seemed largely off the cuff.

A few times, she seemed embarrassed and apologetic to be so longwinded, but the unvarnished nature of her storytelling made the evening feel more personal, the performer more authentic, and the stories themselves sweeter and sadder than a well-rehearsed script would have allotted.

Williams' first story and song took us to the beginning of her musical journey, from the life-altering moment her dad took her to see a preacher, Blind Pearly Brown, sing on a street corner in her native Macon, Georgia, in 1961, when she was about 7. The crowd was so rapt in her recollection you could hear a single beer can lid pop in the hushed theater, as Williams talked about the mighty impression Brown made — calling him the "real thing" — and how she'd play his songs again and again, obsessively trying to emulate his raw style as she first learned guitar.

Williams literally sang his praises in her sweet, show-opening tribute song "Blind Pearly Brown," accompanied by footage of the preacher and just a lone acoustic guitar played by Doug Pettibone.

And the evening's first stories and songs continued taking fans on her journey.

She talked about her first guitar teacher — still alive and well making rock posters in San Francisco — covering one of the first songs she learned from him, Elizabeth Cotten's "Freight Train," as pictures of Williams as a child with a guitar flashed on the screen above the stage.

She talked about landing her first label deal with Folkways Records, for $250, the contract flashing on the screen as she sang "Jambalaya," a Hank Williams cover that appeared on that album. At that time, she confessed, she wasn't confident in her own songwriting abilities.

Then those gifts beautifully blossomed before our eyes, from one of her last songs released on Folkways, 1980's "Happy Woman Blues," to "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road," the title track from her breakthrough 1998 album. The songs were surrounded by fond stories of bouncing around and befriending wild musicians in Houston and Austin, Texas, in the 1970s, and growing as an artist after moving to Los Angeles.

Her life's path firmly established at the Pabst, the show and memories from there became more poignant, inspired by the people who shaped her who are no longer walking by her side. Ahead of "Bus to Baton Rogue," when she talked fondly about the fig tree and tiny white seashells in her grandparents' driveway in the Louisiana town, vivid memories of my own grandparents' homes — details I hadn't thought about in ages — came rushing back.

That's the gift of Williams as a songwriter, and evident in Milwaukee Thursday as a storyteller, too. She's talking about her experiences, but they guide listeners to reflect on their own.

Williams' memories became more somber across a series of songs inspired by and devoted to "beautiful misfits" who touched her life. She spoke warmly about her younger brother Robert, a "brilliant rascal" who played piano around the house, who became obsessed with Shakespeare as a teenager — and who struggled with "his demons," disappearing for days, weeks, months at a time, his family uncertain he was still alive. And after a shattering performance of a song she wrote in his honor, "Little Angel, Little Brother," Williams revealed that she's still estranged from her brother, asking people in the audience, should they ever meet him, to ask him to "come home."

There's still hope that he will, but it's not the case for others Williams honored Thursday, like late singer-songwriter Blaze Foley — the subject of Williams' "Drunken Angel" — and friend Clyde Woodward, the inspiration for "Lake Charles." Talking about Woodward, Williams shared memories that rushed back to her, seemingly on the spot — the way he coated a pot with a garlic clove before making his gumbo, or stopping at a gas station in Louisiana to grab some boudin — details that Williams seemed sheepish to share but which made her friend, and the song about him, so much more vivid, and moving.

After "Drunken Angel," a dozen songs into the set, Williams scaled back on the storytelling for a few tunes, but they contained some of the evening's strongest musical moments. The band had a ball performing "Heaven Blues," from Pettibone's purring blues guitar to David Sutton striking a bow across a stand-up bass to drummer Butch Norton attaching a rattle to his constantly tapping hi-hat and shaking a coke bottle.

And Williams subjected herself to a terrible-tasting throat spray before singing "Fruits of My Labor," the sacrifice paying off through some of the richest vocals of the night.

One of the richest stories of the night followed soon after, before 2016 song "Dust," Williams attempt, after so many years of struggle and failure, to set one of her university professor father Miller Williams' poems to music.

"I miss him terribly, desperately," she said after the performance ended, saying she felt more connected to her late father singing that song. In her rugged voice, the way she shut her eyes tight as she sang his words, that was already clear.

And after an evening of emotional ups and downs, in the wake of a stroke that still has consequences, Williams (standing for most of the show, but seated at the time) signaled to her offstage crew member to help her on her feet to rock out triumphantly to the evening's closing number, "Joy.” As she swayed and punched the air, the band went wild, slipping into some of Jimi Hendrix's "Voodoo Child," as she reclaimed her happiness, and several fans surrounded the stage to dance.

Storytime was decidedly over. But how lucky we are that Lucinda Williams' story is still going.

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3 takeaways from Lucinda Williams' Milwaukee concert

• As Bob Dylan was playing his second of two Riverside Theater shows a few blocks away, Williams talked about how he changed her life when she was about 12, although it was unclear if she knew he was in town Thursday. A student of her dad's came to their house with a copy Dylan's newly released "Highway 61 Revisited." While they were talking, Williams said she looked at the photograph on the cover, "which pulled me in." "I see this slim, lanky guy, with really interesting eyes and soft, wavy, curly hair, wearing a Triumph motorcycle T-shirt and blue jeans, and I was in love." Williams and the band played "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry" Thursday in his honor.

• Beyond sharing her stories, Williams shared a few that didn't directly involve her, including the time her dad got to meet Hank Williams after a gig before she was born. The two of them grabbed drinks at a bar in Lake Charles. When Williams' dad tried to order a fancier drink, Hank Williams told him, "Williams, you oughta be drinking beer, because you've got a beer-drinking soul," a line Lucinda Williams' father said to folks "every opportunity he had."

• One of the few songs that wasn't matched with a story Thursday was Williams' scathing kiss-off "Those Three Days," but she told the crowd there was one in her book. Gotta respect her pushing those sales.

Lucinda Williams' Pabst Theater setlist

1. "Blind Pearly Brown"

2. “Freight Train” (Elizabeth Cotten cover)

3. “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry” (Bob Dylan cover)

4. “Jambalaya” (Hank Williams cover)

5. “Happy Woman Blues”

6. “Crescent City”

7. “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road”

8. “Bus to Baton Rogue”

9. “Little Angel, Little Brother”

10. “Pineola”

11. “Lake Charles”

12. “Drunken Angel”

13. “Those Three Days”

14. ”Fruits of my Labor”

15. “Heaven Blues”

16. "Real Love"

17. "Dust"

18. "Where The Song Will Find Me"

19. "Ghosts of Highway 20"

20. "Rock n Roll Heart"

21. "Joy" (with a bit of "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)" by Jimi Hendrix Experience)

Editor’s Note: A previous version of this review mistakenly referred to “Joy” as a song on Lucinda Williams’ most recent album.

Contact Piet at (414) 223-5162 or plevy@journalsentinel.com. Follow him on X at @pietlevy or Facebook at facebook.com/PietLevyMJS.

This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Lucinda Williams traces her life at poignant, personal Milwaukee show