Gregory Alan Isakov // o2 academy, glasgow
Gregory Alan Isakov at Glasgow’s O2 Academy
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐(5/5)
On a crisp October night, the O₂ Academy Glasgow transformed into a sanctuary of stillness and sound. Gregory Alan Isakov, the Colorado-based singer-songwriter known for his quiet power and poetic precision, stepped into the soft amber light and, with the opening chords of She Always Takes It Black, bathed the crowd in the golden tones of his voice. What followed was not so much a concert as a collective exhale — an evening where time slowed, hearts steadied, and the noise of the world dimmed beneath his tender, unhurried melodies.
Isakov’s music has always existed in a space between intimacy and vastness, and live, that tension becomes something almost tangible. With his seven-piece band surrounding him in a half-circle of stringed instruments and gentle percussion, the sound felt both expansive and deeply personal. The O₂’s acoustics, often harsh for heavier acts, were softened by the warmth of his arrangements. Every note of San Luis shimmered like light on water, and when he reached the refrain — “And if I go, I’m goin’ / Crazy” — the crowd joined him in a hushed chorus, reverent and spellbound.
It’s often said that Isakov’s studio work carries the feel of late-night solitude, but live, the songs bloom differently. Miles to Go and Amsterdam gained new clarity — crisper, clearer, more alive than their recorded versions. The delicate plucks of banjo and mandolin seemed to hover in the air, while Isakov’s voice, rich and steady, filled the room with a kind of golden melancholy. If relaxation existed in a note, it would sound something like this — the musical equivalent of a cup of tea on a cold night.
There’s little showmanship in his performance, and that’s precisely the magic. Between songs, Isakov spoke softly, thanking the Glasgow crowd for listening “so beautifully.” The audience, in turn, returned the favour with near-silence during the quieter numbers — a rare feat in a city known for its boisterous gig-goers. Southern Star glowed with celestial calm, while The Fall and Before the Sun carried a slow, patient ache.
The centre of the set reached its emotional peak with This Empty Northern Hemisphere and Big Black Car, two songs that seemed tailor-made for the weathered stone and warm lights of the O₂. His bandmates traded glances as they slipped seamlessly into Second Chances, a moment so pure it drew a few visible tears from the front rows. Caves, Sweet Heat Lightning, and Words rounded out the main set — each track delivered with a grace that made you forget the world outside.
And then came The Stable Song. It’s his signature piece, a quiet hymn to home and impermanence, and as the final verse faded, the room held its breath. For a moment, it felt as if no one wanted to break the spell.
The encore — Dark, Dark, Dark and Living Proof — offered a gentle landing. Where most artists might go out in a blaze, Isakov left on a whisper, reminding everyone that power can live in stillness.
Gregory Alan Isakov doesn’t just perform; he creates a kind of quiet magic. His music is a salve — steady, luminous, and necessary. In a world that moves too fast, an evening in his company feels like being reminded how to breathe.
REVIEW BY: KATRIN LAMONT