Words and photos by Tania Graham-Brown
On his third tour of Australia, Grammy-nominated singer, songwriter, and musician Gregory Alan Isakov’s popularity has grown to the point that venues needed to be upgraded and dates added to satisfy the needs of his eager fans.
The tour has been offering audiences a special opportunity to experience stripped-down acoustic arrangements of favourites from Isakov’s full-length studio albums including his most recent, the acclaimed ‘Appaloosa Bones’,’Evening Machines’, ‘The Weatherman’, ‘This Empty Northern Hemisphere, and ‘That Sea, the Gambler’. Beloved by his devoted community of fans and critics alike, Isakov has garnered over 1 billion streams to date. Of his most recent record, ‘Appaloosa Bones’, theAssociated Presspraised, “His new songs are relentlessly majestic, a kind of musical morphine,” whilePastedeclared, “he’s continuing to make expertly-tooled music…it’s reliably beautiful and starkly self-possessed throughout.” Additionally, Isakov collaborated on recently released songs with Noah Kahan, Shovels & Rope, Nathaniel Rateliff and Jeremiah Fraites of The Lumineers.
Born in Johannesburg, South Africa and raised in Philadelphia, Isakov now calls Colorado home. When he isn’t on the road, he spends much of his time writing and recording songs in his barn studio, as well as runningStarling Farm(his farm in Boulder County).
On his 2026 Australian acoustic tour, Gregory Alan Isakov has been leaning into simplicity, smaller arrangements, softer edges, letting the songs stand without the swell of a full orchestral lift. In Sydney, at the State Theatre, that restraint felt deliberate and quietly powerful.
There was no grand entrance. He wandered onstage with an easy smile, adjusted the mic, and opened the night the way he’s opened much of this tour, gently, almost conversationally. The room followed instantly.
He seemed really comfortable with this stripped-back format, and in Sydney that ease translated into something warmer than wistful. The set drew from the songs that have become live staples, the hushed ache of “San Luis”, the steady pulse of “Amsterdam”, the slow burn intimacy of “The Stable Song”.
Between songs he joked about learning about ‘bogans’ for the first time and he poked fun at his own tendency to write “sad farm songs”, and grinned through tuning breaks like he was hosting friends in a lounge room rather than commanding a heritage theatre. The humour broke any lingering reverence in the room. It made the night lighter, more human.
The band, pared back but precise, moved like a quiet tide around him, subtle strings, ethereal keys of the piano, nothing overpowering. The acoustic focus, a hallmark of this tour, meant every lyric landed clearly.
Sydney responded the way Australian crowds often do for him: attentive and respectful. Applause came in warm waves and the audience seemed almost caught in a spell, broken only by their appreciation being heard.
On a tour built around restraint, the Sydney stop proved that sometimes the softest nights carry the furthest.
