“THE BEST VENUE IN LONDON” | JOHN SMITH MAKES SAD SONGS FEEL LIKE COMMUNION ON LAST NIGHT OF THE TOUR

LIVE REVIEW | JOHN SMITH w/ Aysanabee | UNION CHAPEL, LONDON | 18th December 2025 by Kevin O’Sullivan

Union Chapel has a way of slowing time. The moment you step inside, the noise of the city drops away and London feels like it’s holding its breath. Candlelight glows against gothic arches, the air hums with reverence, and every note played here seems to land with extra weight. It’s not just a venue; it’s a sanctuary for songwriters who value truth over theatrics. On this winter’s night, with Christmas looming and two tours drawing to a close, Union Chapel felt less like a gig space and more like a shared exhale — a celebration of touring, storytelling, and the quiet power of live music done properly.

For John Smith, this was a homecoming of sorts. His fourth time playing Union Chapel — and by his own admission, echoed enthusiastically by the room — the best venue in London. That familiarity mattered. There was no sense of an artist passing through; instead, this felt like a ritual. The final night of an extensive tour, played to an audience fully tuned into the emotional frequency Smith operates on. Add to that a very special support slot from Aysanabee, who had flown in from Canada specifically for this show at the tail end of his own 40-date tour, and the night took on the feeling of something earned rather than staged.

Aysanabee

Aysanabee’s set was one of those rare support performances that re-calibrates the room rather than simply warms it up. Indigenous, deeply grounded, and disarmingly open, he spoke with the kind of honesty that pulls you closer rather than pushing a narrative. His stories were as arresting as his songs: working in mining from the age of 12, near-death experiences that reshaped his outlook, and the discovery during Covid of family stories passed down from his grandparents — tales of running away together young, of love forged under pressure, of resilience. These weren’t anecdotes delivered for effect; they were lived-in truths that clearly feed directly into his songwriting.

Despite having played massive festivals alongside the likes of Billie Eilish and Kendrick Lamar, Aysanabee carries himself without ego. He’s a multi-instrumentalist, singer, songwriter and producer, a Juno Award Winner whose catalogue was shaped by the isolation and introspection of the pandemic years, yet his presence remained quietly conversational. You felt like he was talking with the audience, not at them. Deeply impacted by Covid but creatively galvanised by it, his work carries grief and hope in equal measure. As he closed his set, the message was clear: the UK needs to be on his next tour itinerary.

John Smith

When John Smith took the stage, the response was immediate and affectionate. This wasn’t polite applause; this was the sound of people who knew exactly why they were here. Smith has always had the rare ability to make large rooms feel intimate, and in Union Chapel — with its natural acoustics and attentive audience — that gift is amplified. He opened with “Great Lakes” and “Freezing Winds”, songs that set the tone early: expansive, reflective, quietly devastating. His voice, (for fans of Ray La Montagne), carries warmth even when the subject matter cuts deep.

The setlist unfolded like a well-worn journal. “Something Terrible”, “Town to Town”, “River” and “The World Turns” flowed effortlessly, each met with rapt attention. Smith joked easily between songs, self-aware without undermining the emotional weight of his material. Introducing his recent ten-track album Gatherings, released to mark the 20th anniversary (October 2025) of quitting work to become a full-time artist, he deadpanned that it was a greatest-hits record — “although none of them were hits” — drawing big laughter. It was classic Smith: humility masking quiet achievement.

Many of his songs wrestle with unreciprocated love, the ache of wanting someone who can’t quite meet you back. “Songs about loving someone but not being loved back hurt so badly,” he admitted, before adding with a grin, “Sad songs make me happy.” Later came the line, “I suffered for my art — now it’s your turn,” sending another ripple of laughter through the pews. The humour never felt glib; instead, it acted as a release valve for songs that cut close to the bone.

The evening also became a celebration of musical community. Katherine Priddy was introduced warmly — herself headlining Union Chapel on April 23 — before Smith welcomed longtime friend Dietrich Strause to the stage for “Forever to the End”. Strause, who has worked with artists ranging from Anaïs Mitchell to Bon Iver and Lake Street Dive, was described simply as a “badass musician”, and the chemistry between them proved it. Fiona Bevan followed, a friend since Brighton in 2013, now a prolific songwriter with a catalogue including One Direction, Ed Sheeran, Kylie Minogue and Natalie Imbruglia. Their performance of “Salty and Sweet” (Album version with Lisa Hannigan) felt genuinely affectionate — two artists reconnecting through shared history.

Union Chapel itself wasn’t forgotten. Smith spoke of how overwhelming the venue still feels, even on a fourth visit, and gave a shout-out to his Yorkshire soundman Joe Rusby. With Christmas just a week away, he joked that his merch would make the perfect present — especially now that he’d branched out into cleaning products in the form of tea towels.

One of the night’s most affecting moments came when Smith brought Aysanabee back onstage to join him for “The World Turns”, a quiet and powerful gesture that underscored the spirit of the evening. The encore closed with “To Have So Many” and a gently reverent “White Christmas”, joined by his friends, sealing the night with warmth rather than bombast.

A week earlier, Smith admitted, he’d been out of his mind on a Swiss train, contemplating this very gig and feeling humbled by the turnout. All he wants from this industry, he said, is to play live music in front of appreciative audiences. At Union Chapel, on this night, he got exactly that. It was uplifting, joyful and, yes, at times sad — but in the way that reminds you why sadness in music can feel like communion.

Another reverential Union Chapel gig, and another reminder that John Smith is one of our most quietly vital songwriters. The crowd knew it. The building knew it. And for a few hours, it felt like exactly where we were meant to be.