As Solon Holt puts it, ‘I’ve got three songs out, I don’t know what I’m doing here.’ Which is exactly the sort of line that immediately puts a room on side.
A singer-songwriter on his very first trip over, Holt opens with a disarming mix of self-deprecation and understated charm. There’s an intimacy to his early songs — “Sorry I Left You So Lonely, So Long” carries a gentle, melancholic weight, while “Good Does It Do” leans into that reflective sadness even further. There’s humour too — a throwaway aside about not being keen on baked beans gets a laugh — but the mood is mostly one of quiet honesty.
Mid-set, Holt switches to piano, and something shifts. “Songs About You” immediately sounds richer, more soulful, and at that crossroads between country storytelling and soul-deep feeling sits “Sad Country Songs”, which feels like the clearest snapshot yet of who he is and where he’s heading.
The standout, though, is “Make Me Wonder” — the song Holt reckons is the reason he’s on this stage in the first place. It’s hard to argue. Phone torches go up, the room leans in, and for a few minutes it feels like everyone’s sharing the same quiet moment.
This might be Solon Holt’s first trip, but judging by the connection he makes here, it very much won’t be his last.
About three songs in, Avery Anna casually explains that she sings “sad bad songs.”
Given what’s already unfolded by that point, nobody’s arguing.
Things turn dark early with “Blame It on My Broken Heart,” where strident drums push the sound closer to rock than country. And when she delivers the line “if you break my heart, I’ll break yours more,” you don’t just hear it — you believe her. Completely.
“Mr. Predictable,” led by piano, is the yin to that yang: controlled, reflective, and quietly devastating. It’s a reminder that Anna knows exactly when to pull back as well as when to swing.
Cover-wise, she jokes that she has to cover her love songs, cueing up Taylor Swift’s “Love Story.” The reaction in the room is instant and huge — even if Maximum Volume remains firmly outside the Swift economy, it’s impossible not to clock just how completely she has the crowd in her hand.
Balance is restored with “it’s just rainin’,” which she rightly labels “proper country,” happily switching to acoustic and leaning into the song’s simplicity. Then comes a curveball: Ozzy Osbourne’s “No More Tears.” It works — unexpectedly so — and underlines her range and confidence on a big stage.
New single “Man Downstairs” keeps the darker themes rolling, before “Narcissist,” written during what she calls a really hard time in her life. “Has anyone ever been divorced?” she asks. “Congrats,” she laughs — gallows humour meeting real emotional weight. “Fear Of God” follows, touching on faith and the person she wanted to be, while “Indigo” and “Make It Look Easy” round out a set that feels far more substantial than a support slot should.
As Anna herself says, it’s really cool to come across the other side of the world and connect. Judging by the response — and the way these songs land — she makes it look easy.
What strikes you as they’re setting up the stage for Jordan Davis — who, lest we forget, played Wembley last night and will sell this place out tomorrow too — is the sheer spread of the crowd. Kids, parents, grandparents. Three generations deep and all in.
Twenty years ago, this wouldn’t have happened in Birmingham for a country show. And if it had, it would’ve been Garth Brooks. (They even spin “Friends in Low Places” over the PA, just in case you need the reference point.) The mainstream might not quite clock it yet, but in these fragmented times country has got huge, y’all. The mammoth stadium tour Luke Combs is about to undertake tells its own story — as does the reaction to “Beer Never Broke My Heart” when it comes on over the speakers. Something else entirely.
That scale is reflected in the set, which is arena rock writ large. “Ain’t Enough Road” sees Davis stroll out in a trucker hat and immediately take command — and he holds it for the next 90 minutes. “Turn This Truck Around” lands with its central truth — we’ve come too far to turn around — while “Bar None” reminds us that heartbreak, it turns out, is universal.
“Slow Dance in a Parking Lot” changes the vibe, but Birmingham is more than ready, and it becomes the first proper singalong of the night. “Lose You,” from the older material and one of Davis’s own favourites, gives space for the guitarist and keys player to take centre stage, before “Almost Maybes” proves that if ever there was a song built for the live environment, this is it — even before the Bob Marley snippet drops in.
“Little Lime” mellows things out — tequila duly mentioned — and “Know You Like That” brings us back to that sense of universality. This is the key to the whole thing. “Next Thing You Know,” the song that changed his life, is carried by the tenderness with which Davis speaks about his kids. “Son Of A Gun” keeps the vibe rolling.
“Banks” is more than just a cover recorded with NEEDTOBREATHE — it’s the song that was playing when his wife was in labour — and the moment is briefly paused when Davis spots a fan taken ill, the show stopping without hesitation. “Tucson Too Late” restores full power afterwards and stands as a supreme example of his class.
“Singles You Up” is pure fun if that’s what you came for, while “Church in a Chevy” is clearly special to him — not a hit, but one where he means every single word. “Let It Go” follows, and while James Bay remains a mystery to MV, this is kinda cool. “Starting Over,” the Chris Stapleton cover, strips things right back — solo, no frills — and you’re reminded just how much talent he’s working with. You don’t improve on perfection, and he doesn’t try to.
The medley of “Man I Need” (Avery Anna back for the opener), “Wagon Wheel” (Solon Holt taking the second), and “Mr. Brightside” — sung by Jonathan, the guitarist (“take it easy on him, he’s not that good”) — is fun, even if “Mr. Brightside” remains a song I very much hate.
“I Ain’t Sayin’” is more like it — unashamed country pop — before “Take It From Me” keeps things rolling where most would encore. “Buy Dirt,” with its 700 million Spotify streams, tells the story. “What My World Spins Around” closes it out: we’ve got three minutes and 21 seconds left — let’s have some fun. And that was mostly the night.
He might have come too far — but the truck? It’s nowhere near out of gas. We’ll never see him in a building that isn’t an arena again.
