Words & Photos: Song Gao
Joshua Radin is, technically speaking, the soundtrack to my high school. I still remember the first time I heard him — almost ten years ago now, stumbling across ‘I’d Rather Be With You’ on a music platform and becoming immediately captivated by the delicacy of his fingerpicked guitar. Last week, stepping into Cottier Theatre in Glasgow, that same feeling came rushing back.




The evening began with support act Brendan James, a piano-based singer-songwriter who set the tone beautifully. With both hands dancing across the keys — swinging between thunderous dynamics and the softest touch — his performance was full of contrast and quiet power. His voice hung in the warm red-lit air of the theatre, and his storytelling carried you from understated verses into emotionally charged choruses with nothing but a keyboard for company. It was simple, sincere, and deeply moving. I very nearly cried.

Then Joshua Radin walked out — looking every bit the wandering cowboy. He opened with ‘No Envy, No Fear’ from his album ‘Simple Times’, accompanied by a gentle, dreamy synthesiser that floated beneath his guitar like a soft breeze. His voice has deepened with time, and he subtly reshaped the melody and his phrasing, offering those of us who know the song well an entirely fresh listening experience. He has always been a storyteller, and you could feel the weight of years in every note — a man who has lived through his own music.

What made the show feel so intimate and meaningful was what happened between the songs. Before each one, Radin paused to share the story behind it — where it came from, what it meant to him. These small windows into his world transformed the set from a concert into something closer to a conversation. He also invited the audience to participate at several points, encouraging people to clap along, follow the rhythm, and become part of the music-making itself.


The closing moment of the night was the most memorable of all. Radin covered Bob Dylan’s ‘Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right’ — entirely unplugged. No microphones. No speakers. Just the musicians on stage facing one another, playing acoustically into the open air of the theatre. It was arresting. The room seemed to hold its breath. It felt less like a concert and more like being invited into someone’s living room — the kind of music you hear at a friend’s house late at night, when everyone has stopped performing and is simply playing.


Before the show, I’d spotted a post on Radin’s Instagram inviting fans to request songs or make suggestions — a small but telling gesture. It speaks to who he is as an artist: someone who genuinely cares about the people in the room. From the synthesiser-washed opener to the story-laden middle section, from the audience singalongs, to the stripped-back, speaker-less finale, every choice that evening felt considered and generous.
Joshua Radin didn’t just play a show. He made sure everyone in that room had a night worth remembering.

Leave a comment