Withered Hand is the stage name of Dan Willson, a singer-songwriter with a fragile voice from the rain-soaked streets of Edinburgh. A member of the almost mythical Fence Collective (a group of musicians and songwriters releasing work under the Fence Records label, founded by Kenny Anderson) Withered Hand has been gaining increasing exposure since the release of his first EP back in 2008, and deservedly so. Willson’s voice is a wavering, heartfelt whine that packs an emotional punch few other artists ever achieve.
With Josie Long acting as compere for the one-off gig and the promotional posters promising special guests galore, Withered Hand’s appearance headlining The Queen’s Hall for the second Fringe in a row was never going to be standard fare. In the event, it turned out to be something quite special, with the aforementioned special guests consisting of indie God Darren Hayman, previously of Hefner, and local darlings Ball Boy.
Josie Long successfully got the crowd going with some light-hearted, albeit slightly repetitive banter, while both Darren Hayman and Ball Boy impressed as high-profile support. Hayman was a tough act to follow, however, and while Ball Boy performed a competent set they didn’t quite manage to keep to the same standard. When Withered Hand took to the stage it had already been a long night, and it was a testament to Willson’s talents that this was soon forgotten.
There were some great moments: both ‘Love in the Time of Ecstasy’ and ‘Religious Songs’ thrilled the audience, who mostly seemed to consist of die-hard fans, singing along and cheering in all the right places. New song ‘Jubilee’ received good treatment and a welcome reception, and also featured the world’s most awkward-looking backing singers, who completed the package by promptly shuffling off the stage once the song was over. But, rather than being ridiculous, this somehow simply added to the indie charm.
The set was wrapped up with a brilliant acoustic performance of ‘No Cigarettes’, followed by raucous recent release ‘Heart Heart’. It was the perfect contrast, going from delicate and tender to drunken sing-a-long without so much as a pause for thought.
‘This is all so strange,’ Willson told us at one point, referring to his recent success; to which a drunken women from the upper level shouted down: ‘It’s your path, Daniel. Follow it.’ On the evidence of this gig, that’s pretty sound advice.
