GREGORY ALAN ISAKOV LIVE AT GLASGOW’S SWG3

★★★★★ (5/5)

GREGORY ALAN ISAKOV PERFORMING AT GLASGOW’S SWG3
PHOTOCREDIT: KENDALL WILSON

Gregory Alan Isakov may have set down roots in the US state of Colorado, both figuratively and literally, but he is very much at home in Scotland. It's unsurprising, given this country's traditions of crofting and folk music - vocations that still go hand in hand to this day - but he also lived in the far north east of the country for a while, tending earth and songs, and always speaks fondly with candour about the people and places he connected with here. His music naturally embodies the richness and simplicity of life attuned to the minutiae of the everyday, contextualised within the vastness of the Universe. It is both intimate and expansive, intentional and meandering, specifically surreal, and embellished with an intangible magic that is uniquely Isakov's.

On his most recent album, Appaloosa Bones, his first new music in five years, Isakov explores the breadth and depth of human experiences he observed in recent years; he spotlights our strange collective loneliness, hardships and sorrows, as well as the strength and beauty of our relationships - romantic, platonic, situational or otherwise. Sonically the album is a little rawer than his previous compilations; it instinctually stays closer to home and only soars when absolutely necessary. Isakov said he initially set out to create a lo-fi rock record but as the songs of Appaloosa Bones revealed themselves over time the timbre of the project became something more gentle. Similarly when it comes to crafting live performances the songs take the lead.

The delicate tones of the A-side tracks on Appaloosa Bones punctuate the set with brighter moments of reprieve; Before The Sun and The Fall chime with glistening banjo and piano motifs and subtly-hinted optimism. Dark, Dark, Dark offers some deep catharsis before Steve Varney's swirling, ethereal guitar takes flight across San Luis. Emerging in shadowy silhouette, Jeb Bows' plaintive violin heralds the opening to a darker passage; This Empty Northern Hemisphere is a journey in which Isakov Goes Electric. It rattles and rumbles, cascading and ascending again as the six musicians on stage wrestle to contain their own sorcery, finally crash landing into a rapturous reception.

Isakov emerges briefly from within, apologetically breaking the fourth wall to introduce his "best friends" in the band before they turn their hearts and hands to the tenderness of Miles To Go, a troubadour's ode to life on the road, carried along by piano, steel guitar and harmonica. Big Black Car provides more opportunities for the band members to shine as they trade solos, in the true folk tradition, and then it's time for them to step out for some air. Isakov takes the spotlight himself, just for a moment, as 3am pleads with regret and promise and resignation into pin-drop silence.

For as much as he deliberately says very little throughout the set, he makes a point to thank the audience profusely for their attendance. It seems like more effort and sacrifice goes into just getting out of the house these days and artists are at the mercy of many factors beyond their own popularity or commercial success. This has never been lost on Isakov despite him consistently selling out consecutive tours across Europe at increasing capacity. SWG3 Galvanizers marks his biggest headline show in Scotland and while the staff are typically lovely and the technical aspects are world class it can be a struggle for some punters to navigate transport around the venue, and in terms of ambiance...well, it's industrial (in the nicest way) which sets the stripped down performance of Second Chances in stark relief, even within a collection of mellifluous folk ballads. Isakov, Varney and Bows conjure a graceful waltz while the audience stands spellbound, overawed and barely swaying. Liars doesn't so much build as explodes out of nowhere, a crescendo before the third act.

Dandelion Wine and Chemicals are particular fan favourites, adored for their simplicity and visceral immediacy, and each receives deserving reaction. Isakov prefaces the title track of Appaloosa Bones saying that it's "too depressing, we're not gonna leave you with this" before winding up the set with the gloriously weighty Caves, its meditative refrain inviting a full-bodied singalong: "Let's put all these words away". The enraptured audience obliges and then begs for more so an encore is respectfully provided. The intricate beauty of Amsterdam and a captivating rendition of The Stable Song - just Isakov on acoustic guitar and Varney on banjo - preludes the stunning finale of the whole band performing Silver Bell around a single microphone, open hearts firmly front and centre. The audience response lasts until well after the house lights have come on. It's this generous reciprocity between Isakov and his fans that sustains the love between us over the years and many thousands of miles, that keeps him coming back no matter the size of his audience. And in truth, there's hardly a room left in Scotland big enough to contain the adoration of his fans. Regardless of where he plays, of course, he's welcome here any time.