James McMurtry and The Martial Law Review, Stephen Clair

Grab your late-night gig shoes and get ready: James McMurtry and The Martial Law Review are taking over South Congress for a powerhouse Tuesday-night throwdown, with Stephen Clair keeping the party rolling deep into the night.

• When: May 19, 2026

• Time: James McMurtry and The Martial Law Review at 10:00 p.m., Stephen Clair at 11:45 p.m.

• Cover: $10 at the door starting at 9:30 p.m. (no advance tickets)

• Age: 21+ only

Never one to rest on his laurels, James McMurtry continues to tour relentlessly, and this intimate club show is a chance to see why his performances are constantly tagged as “must-see.” His songs read like razor-sharp short stories set to a relentless groove, and The Martial Law Review gives those narratives a lean, muscular backing that hits even harder live. The Washington Post has praised McMurtry for packing a novel’s worth of emotion into a few minutes of “blisteringly stark couplets,” and onstage he adds another dimension: he is an accomplished rock guitarist, bending and snarling through solos that make even longtime fans do a double take.

This is the kind of night where you lean against the stage, feel the amps humming in your chest, and get pulled into a set that moves from slow-burn storytelling to full-on barroom catharsis. Expect road-weary characters, small-town ghosts, big-sky highways, and a band that plays like they have something to prove at every single show.

Then, at 11:45 p.m., Stephen Clair steps up to steer things into his own offbeat corner of Americana. Clair’s origin story starts with his grandfather singing behind the wheel and spinning Johnny Cash records, a seed that grew into a career planted firmly in the borderlands between Americana, alt-country, and delightfully dorky indie rock. Since his 1997 debut, Altoona Hotel (named for the Pennsylvania town his grandfather loved), Clair has been quietly racking up albums, tours, and stories from the road.

Onstage, he is best known for his wry humor, sharp guitar stylings, and songs that shrug, wink, and then punch you in the gut when you least expect it. There is a scrappy charm to his set: the kind of performance where critics and family members were the first true believers, and everyone else has slowly, inevitably come around. By the time the clock edges toward last call, you will understand why.

There are no advance tickets for this one, so it is first-come, first-served at the door. Show up early, bring ten bucks in your pocket, and settle in for a night of storytelling guitars, road-tested songs, and two artists who treat the stage like home. If your idea of a perfect evening is strong songwriting, strong playing, and a crowd that came to actually listen, this late-night double bill has your name all over it.