Keb’ Mo’ @ Union Chapel, London

Keb' Mo' (vocals, guitar, harmonica) + Robbie Cavanagh (support)

Sometimes the simplest evenings turn out to be the most memorable.

As I made my way to Union Chapel there was every chance this was going to be a wet one. The skies over North London were heavy with grey cloud and umbrellas were very much at the ready. Yet somehow, whether through luck, timing or a little divine intervention, the rain never came. Instead, the clouds gradually parted and shafts of evening sunlight began to stream through the chapel’s magnificent stained-glass windows, filling the vast space with a constantly shifting palette of colour and light.

Union Chapel remains one of London’s truly special venues. There are bigger rooms and certainly more modern ones, but few can match the atmosphere created within these Victorian walls. The sound seems to hang perfectly in the air, every note carrying effortlessly without ever becoming overpowering. Combined with the venue’s unreserved seating policy, it creates a unique experience. Long before the music began, every pew was occupied and every audience member settled into place. By the time support act Robbie Cavanagh walked onto the stage, the room was already completely focused.

Cavanagh provided the perfect opening. His thoughtful songwriting and easy-going delivery immediately connected with the audience, setting the tone for what would become an evening built as much around stories as songs.

Then came Keb’ Mo’.

Walking on stage alone, armed with an array of guitars, harmonicas and decades of experience, he immediately filled the room without ever raising his voice. There was no grand entrance and no need for one. From the very first song he had the audience exactly where he wanted them.

What struck me most throughout the evening was the ease with which he performed. Some artists make a point of demonstrating their mastery. Keb’ Mo’ simply possesses it. Everything felt natural. Songs flowed into stories. Stories flowed into laughter. Laughter flowed back into songs. The audience became less like spectators and more like guests in his living room.

The set drew heavily from a catalogue that now spans three decades, with More Than One Way Home providing one of the evening’s recurring themes. It is a song that perfectly captures Keb’ Mo’s ability to find wisdom in everyday life and, in the surroundings of Union Chapel, its message seemed to resonate even more deeply. Later, Life Is Beautiful brought one of the evening’s most uplifting moments, its optimism floating effortlessly around the room as the last of the daylight filtered through the stained glass.

One of the most beautiful visual moments of the night came courtesy of the evening sun itself. As the light poured through the stained-glass windows it caught the polished metal of Keb’ Mo’s steel guitar. With every movement, flashes of colour reflected from the instrument and danced across the stage. Reds, blues and golds shimmered across its surface as he played. It was one of those moments impossible to plan yet impossible to forget. The guitar seemed almost to glow, becoming part of the performance itself.

Early in the set, Like Love saw Keb’ Mo’ gently coax the audience into song. What began as a simple singalong quickly became something far more meaningful. In the surroundings of Union Chapel, with its soaring arches and stained-glass windows, the audience felt less like a crowd and more like a congregation. Voices rose from every corner of the chapel, strangers united in a shared moment, and for a couple of hours the outside world seemed to disappear altogether. There was something undeniably spiritual about it. Not in a religious sense necessarily, but in the connection that existed between artist, audience and venue. It was a reminder of music’s unique ability to bring people together and create a sense of belonging, however fleeting. By the time the song came to a close, Keb’ Mo’ had done more than win over the room; he had become part of a collective experience that felt perfectly suited to this remarkable setting.

One of the evening’s most magical moments arrived unexpectedly when Keb’ Mo’ briefly drifted into Amazing Grace. It amounted to little more than a couple of lines, yet it worked perfectly. In most venues it might have passed almost unnoticed, but inside Union Chapel it carried a significance far beyond its brevity. Surrounded by soaring arches, stained glass and more than a century of history, those few familiar notes seemed completely at home. The melody floated effortlessly through the chapel’s remarkable acoustics, reinforcing the ecclesiastical character of the building and reminding everyone that this was far more than just another concert venue. For a fleeting moment the distinction between performance and place disappeared entirely. It was simple, unforced and entirely spontaneous, yet somehow it became one of the evening’s most memorable passages.

The evening was not simply a celebration of a remarkable back catalogue. Keb’ Mo’ also offered glimpses of the road ahead, introducing songs from his forthcoming Concord Records album, due for release on 21 August. Among them was Fussing and Fighting, a song that immediately stood out, not only for its easy groove but for the warmth and wisdom at its heart. Like so much of Keb’ Mo’s best writing, it manages to address the complexities of modern life without ever becoming heavy-handed. Nestled comfortably alongside familiar favourites, the new material felt entirely at home, sharing the same humanity, humour and storytelling that have long defined his songwriting. There was never any sense of an artist revisiting former glories. Instead, this felt like a musician who remains creatively curious, still finding new stories to tell and new ways to tell them.

Between songs he spoke warmly about London, reflecting on how much he enjoys the city’s energy and atmosphere. It was one of several moments during the evening where the conversation felt every bit as important as the music itself. His affection for London seemed genuine and the audience responded in kind. In a venue already rich with character, there was a sense of mutual appreciation between artist and audience that only strengthened the connection that had been building throughout the night.

Just Like You reminded everyone why it remains one of the defining songs of his career. Performed with warmth and affection rather than nostalgia, it sounded as fresh as ever. Meanwhile, Good To Be (Home Again) felt particularly poignant, its themes of belonging and gratitude perfectly suited to the intimacy of the evening. There was also the gospel-infused joy of The Worst Is Yet To Come, a song that somehow manages to turn conventional expectations on their head, leaving listeners feeling hopeful rather than apprehensive.

Of course, none of it would have mattered had the music not delivered.

Keb’ Mo’ has always been described as a blues artist, but that only tells part of the story. Throughout the evening he moved effortlessly between blues, country, folk, soul, gospel and Americana. One moment there would be echoes of the Mississippi Delta, the next a touch of country storytelling, then suddenly a gospel refrain that had the audience nodding along in agreement. His music has never lived comfortably inside a single genre and this performance was all the richer for it.

His guitar playing remains extraordinary. Not because it is flashy, but because it serves the song. Every note feels considered. Every phrase has purpose. Watching him command a room of this size entirely on his own was a reminder that true musicianship is often about knowing exactly what not to play. There were moments when his slide work seemed to sing as much as the lyrics themselves, while elsewhere a single phrase carried more emotional weight than an entire flurry of notes ever could.

The audience recognised that. Conversations afterwards reflected not only the quality of the music but also the breadth of it. More than once I heard people remark that it was far more than simply a blues concert. They were right. This was a master storyteller drawing from a lifetime of musical influences and presenting them with warmth, humour and remarkable humility.

As the final songs faded and the standing ovation arrived, there was a sense that nobody was quite ready for the evening to end. Perhaps that is the highest compliment any artist can receive.

The rain had threatened but never arrived. The stained glass glowed as daylight slowly disappeared. The acoustics of Union Chapel wrapped themselves around every note. And at the centre of it all stood Keb’ Mo’, performing with the confidence, grace and effortless charm of a man entirely comfortable in his own skin.

For a couple of hours, artist, audience and venue became connected in a way that felt increasingly rare. The congregation that had formed during Like Love, the brief refrain of Amazing Grace, the sunlight dancing from the steel guitar, the stories shared between songs and the introduction of new material still finding its place in the world all combined to create something greater than the sum of its parts.

There are concerts you enjoy and there are concerts you carry home with you.

This was very much the latter. Glenn Wright