Picture this: it’s a gloomy Wednesday evening, mid-October, in London. London Bridge is buzzy and noisy, at rush hour, and all you need after a day locked in an office is to escape the routine, possibly grab a beer and enjoy some live music with the company of your friends. Omeara is the designated venue, an intimate space I had already been several times before. On stage, following the enjoyable warm up with West London’s WILDES, is golden boy Isaac Gracie.

I remember coming across his music a few months ago. I caught the chance to see him playing live at Bushstock Festival last June. That’s when I promised myself I would’ve been at his first headline shows to try and understand how far his music could go.

Isaac Gracie is the image of what I would define a rockstar. Nothing to do with the sound of his guitar, nor the outfit that comprises all the elements typical of a stereotypical icon: boots, denim, a vintage white shirt open on chest where a wooden cross stands out. It’s something more than all of that. It’s a deep vibration that comes out of his voice and his heart; it’s the way he looks at the crowd, the connection that suddenly establishes. Again, it’s that completely different approach to the stage I could notice since I saw him performing a spiritual, electro-acoustic set at St Stephen’s Church in Shepherds Bush.

The EP ‘The Death Of You & I’, out on Buried Crowns, is his latest offering. The four-track literally encompasses all the hallmarks that characterise Isaac’s imaginative songwriting. The title-track, as well as the mesmerising ‘Silhouettes Of You’ sits in a setlist that includes all the young musician has been releasing in the past year and a half. There’s some new music, as well as the hugely praised ‘All In My Mind’ and ‘Reverie’, probably the most emotional moments of the entire night.

The crowd seems to be captured, somehow emotively chained to Gracie’s vocals. Everyone sings along to most of his songs, with obvious peaks for what are the artist’s hits, that grow in intensity towards the end with numbers like the painfully beautiful ‘Last Words’ and ‘Terrified’.

All I needed, on a gloomy Wednesday evening, was one of those moments when music takes me by the hand and reconnects you with life. When lights go on again, Omeara kind of wakes up to a new dream. So do I, and it’s a dream made of melodies that are slowly fading away. All that remains are vivid memories of what, perhaps, is the birth of a shiny new star.

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