Williams rumbles in night of surprises

At her concert Wednesday night, Lucinda Williams (pictured in July) debuted songs from her new album, ''Little Honey.'' (ROBERT E. KLEIN FOR THE BOSTON GLOBE)

Sometimes you really can't make this stuff up. Ten minutes before Lucinda Williams took the stage Wednesday night, the scene at the Orpheum was already looking like the story line of a classic Lucinda song. There was, no joke, an empty Jim Beam bottle discarded in the sink of the men's room. And by the time a fistfight broke out briefly toward the end of the show, with Williams visibly startled a few feet away, it became clear: When Lucinda is ready to tear it up, so is her audience.

With all that excitement, no wonder the crowd seemed so restless so early on. There were calls to "Turn it up a little!" (probably not just referring to the volume, either) along with the never-ending song requests. But Williams wasn't ready to kick into overdrive just yet. Like the car wheels on a gravel road she so famously sings about, Williams's performance was like starting a beat-up truck on a winter's day. She had to warm up with some new songs ("Little Rock Star"), rev her engine on fan favorites ("Changed the Locks," "Can't Let Go"), and finally squeal out of the parking lot and leave skid marks in her wake (two covers: AC/DC's "It's a Long Way to the Top" and Skip James's "Hard Time Killing Floor Blues").

Williams is touring behind a new album, "Little Honey," but it's not out until next week. So when she opened with the rowdy first single, "Real Love" (hint: it involves an electric guitar), no one seemed especially bowled over. It was distracting to watch her read lyrics from a music stand, but that wasn't because the songs are new; she glanced downward most of the night.

She debuted "Jailhouse Tears," an amusing country duet with Elvis Costello on the new album, but sung with backing guitarist Doug Pettibone in concert. It had all the trappings of vintage George Jones and Tammy Wynette.

Pettibone: "I just went to the corner/ To get a cold six-pack."

Williams: "You're a drunk, you're a stoner/ You never came back."

Just like on her albums, Williams was at her best when someone had rattled her cage and unleashed her raw intensity. On "Essence," cracked notes came and went. She used an echo effect for a swooping chorus on "Come On," and a depraved growl and piercing rock arrangement on "Honey Bee" suggested she has a new instant classic in her catalog.

But when Williams turned it down a notch, she found the night's most tender moment. Later telling the crowd her surprise guest was "the greatest singer since Otis Redding," she welcomed Ray LaMontagne for a duet on her song "Fruits of My Labor." She had heard his version through a bandmate, and she beamed as she stood aside and let him interpret her words. The mutual admiration was palpable, and as they wrapped up, he turned to her, smiled faintly, and they embraced. She said what we all felt: "Where do I go from here?"

James Reed can be reached at jreed@globe.com.