There was perhaps no one better equipped to bring warmth to a chilly New England evening than Gregory Alan Isakov on the last stop of his US tour this past Saturday night. The crowd at Royale could have been handpicked from Isakov’s current home city of Boulder, Colorado: with an abundance of Patagonia down jackets, Harpoon IPAs in hand, and a respect for personal space uncharacteristic of most Boston concerts, the atmosphere was appropriately cozy for the singer-songwriter’s intimate performance.

Reed Foehl, described later by Isakov as an “older brother,” took the stage first. Though armed with a husky voice and dressed in a faded flannel and worn-in trucker hat, his performance was far from rugged: instead, it was tender, intentional, and full of emotion. With lyrics like “Love is a letter we write along the way,” the well-worn lines of Foehl’s face told of love lost and found, of a hopeless wanderer who found solace within a weathered, hand-me-down guitar. Foehl radiated genuine humility, spending much of his time on stage praising the musicians that inspired him, and even inviting fellow folk legend, Putnam Murdock, to join him for his final song. The resulting duet was the perfect send-off, a reminder that sometimes a musician needs nothing more than an acoustic guitar and an honest voice in order to captivate an audience.

After Foehl’s performance, Gregory Alan Isakov walked on stage alone, and without a word, began strumming his guitar with casual expertise. Melodic simplicity is both the spine of Isakov’s music and the source of its unwavering beauty. With the lights still dimmed, his band members silently joined, adding body and breadth to the stage the same way a sunrise creeps up on tired eyes. Isakov is everything that is enchanting about Colorado’s Front Range, the landscape that has inspired so much of his work. His heart-wrenching writing juxtaposed with his beaming demeanor were reminiscent of the way the jagged mountain peaks meet the unbridled, open blue skies. However, Isakov’s storytelling is so skillful in its ability to adapt to those who listen, captivating even the busiest of city crowds. With lyrics like “Were we kids out in the desert/Or birds running cross the sun/Did I stumble through your darkness/Or was I just another one,” Isakov is able to make listeners nostalgic for something they may have never known.

Isakov wasted no time between songs, sensing the crowd was as eager to hear his music as he was to perform it as they screamed out countless requests. “You guys even knowing these lyrics is kind of blowing my mind,” he quipped during a rare pause between strums on his guitar. “I was just excited about all the pigeons I saw today, it’s kind of crazy how many there are here. But this is way crazier.” During “The Stable Song,” the strings stole the show, the violin and banjo “ring[ing] like silver… ring[ing] like gold.” It was as if his lyrics were coming to life.

Isakov joked about being extremely popular among his pre-school teacher friends, boasting that he tends to be “big in the naptime circle.” This elicited quite a lot of laughter, but he immediately proved himself wrong with an electrifying performance of “Caves,” one of the more popular songs off Evening Machines. The talented band that backed him felt more like a brotherhood, bound together by calloused hands, 5 o’clock shadows, and an allure of artistic mystery. Watching each member gather around Isakov’s mic to play unplugged versions of crowd favorites like “Saint Valentine” was a true treat, and a testament to the collective power of the talented musicians.

At a pivotal point in his set, Isakov asked if all the lights could be turned off. He explained his “favorite thing in the whole world is to sing songs in the dark at home,” and by shrouding the audience in darkness, he hoped to replicate the tender magic of his solitary moments. The poetic verses in “The Universe” flowed from his lips like a sweet lullaby, accented by his effortless transitions in and out of falsetto. Throughout the night, Isakov’s stirring words and the band’s beautiful music demanded to be felt, and continued to be felt long after the final chord.

There is an undeniable abundance of talented musicians in the world, yet the number of storytellers as powerful as Isakov remain few and far between. With the European leg of his tour ahead of him and the promising winds of Evening Machines beneath his wings, you just can’t help but believe that, similar to the universe he sings so lovingly about, Gregory Alan Isakov is wounded, but he’s got infinity in front of him… and it’s beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

See below for photos from the show (in order: Gregory Alan Isokov, and Reed Foehl):