SON LITTLE CAPTIVATES AT MANCHESTER’S BAND ON THE WALL

LIVE REVIEW | SON LITTLE w/ Nyah Grace|BAND ON THE WALL, MANCHESTER | 21st April 2026

I wandered in through the glass doors of Manchester’s Band on the Wall – there to watch Son Little on his Cityfolk tour. The bar to the left buzzed with a low, familiar rhythm, while the room to the right glowed under soft neon. It’s the kind of space where you’re met halfway; you can watch from afar or mingle in the moment.

I decided to edge my way through the crowd, with a gentle shuffle full of apologies and half-smiles. As I wandered through, I listened to excited conversations. Some were clearly stepping into Son’s world for the first time and asking what to expect. While others spoke with certainty, already knowing what was to come. The contrast gave the room a pulse before a single lyric had been sung.

Before he stepped out, Nyah Grace calmed that excitement. With shades of Corinne Bailey Rae, her lightness sat over something quietly soulful. Her voice felt like summer in real time. Warm, unforced, the kind which settles on your skin rather than demanding your attention.

She spoke between songs with an easy charm, laughing at herself as she touched on situationships and the messy in-between spaces people pretend not to recognise. You could hear the knowing laughter ripple through the room. She didn’t feel like a support act trying to win people over. She felt like someone letting you in on something honest, without overstaying their welcome. Trust me, watch out for Nyah Grace.

When Son Little opened with ‘Rabbit‘, it landed more like a jolt than anything gentle. There was no announcement, no real pause to mark the shift; he just stepped into it, and suddenly the room changed. The groove hit with intent, catching folk off guard. I watched as heads snapped up, and those early conversations were cut short. People stopped worrying about how they looked and just went with it.

Behind him sat both Sheldon Reed and Wil Blades. Blades’ keys added depth without ever overwhelming, while Reed anchored everything with a steady, almost unspoken control on drums. Both allowed the music to stretch and contract naturally.

As I watched the crowd become part of the experience, I noticed how some songs drew out that slow, almost instinctive sway. Bodies leaned into each other as if guided by something just beneath the surface. Couples found their own rhythm within it, and strangers mirrored each other without realising.

‘In Orbit‘ settled into one of the night’s quiet peaks. The groove deepened, the band zoned in, and the room followed without resistance. Again, I watched as drinks paused mid-air, conversations disappeared entirely, and for a few minutes, everything felt aligned. It wasn’t loud or dramatic; it was just Son Little doing his thing.

Another highlight came with ‘Mad About You‘. It had been called for early in the set, voices from the crowd trying their luck. Little held it back, letting the moment build rather than giving in too soon. When it finally arrived, people closed the distance between themselves and the stage, drawn in without being asked.

Throughout it all, Son Little confidently held everything together. His voice carries both gravel and silk, never pushing too far in either direction. It felt less like he was performing at the room and more like he was entwined with the audience. There were moments where it hovered, where the music drifted just close enough to the background to test your attention. Though even then, it didn’t lose you. It softened the space, gave it room to breathe, and allowed people to settle deeper into the experience.

By the end, no one seemed in a rush to leave. People stayed where they were, as if leaving too quickly might undo something. That’s the thing, Son Little doesn’t overwhelm. He builds something around you, lets you find your place within it, then leaves you carrying it long into the night.