LIVE REVIEW // Transcending Time and Feeling Feelings: Paolo Nutini @ Brooklyn Steel

Photo: Sarah Rodriguez

If you don’t know the name Paolo Nutini, you aren’t alone. Despite his 4.68 million monthly listeners on Spotify, when I mentioned him to my friends, there were blank looks of confusion across the board. I investigated: Could it be because he’s from the UK, and sometimes, music just doesn’t make it across the pond? Is it because the album before his 2022 return was released in 2014, when most of the people I know were deep in their Tumblr music era (The Neighbourhood, The xx, you get the gist.) Possibly a combination of both? Something else altogether? 

Whatever – I was grooving hard to Nutini’s 2022 comeback record, Last Night In The Bittersweet, and figured that I’d get my answers at his sold out Brooklyn Steel show. I binged his discography, spanning 16 years, in anticipation and to better understand what I was getting myself into. These Streets (2007) was Nutini’s debut album – it features his two biggest songs, “Last Request” and “New Shoes”, and it came out when he was only 19. On today’s episode of “Well Now I Feel Bad About Myself”...

These Streets is great – there’s no denying his immense vocal talent –  but there’s a lot going on in a there's-so-much-great-music-and-I-wanna-do-it-all kind of way. It’s understandable: He was 19, incredibly talented, and hugely into music. The world was his oyster, and all that. A smashing success, he launched another atomic record in 2009 and once more in 2014. Then it was quiet.

All these years later, the breadth of Nutini’s sonic loves are still apparent, but he’s managed to hone them into a sound that’s truly his own. Last Night In The Bittersweet is as tender as can be, effortlessly cool, aurally huge, and as smooth as silk velvet. There’s a new found eccentricity there, too, with bits of spoken word and psychedelic resonance. His raspy, dynamic voice solidifies it as a Paolo Nutini record, but it’s an innovative departure from the catchy radio pop and weepy folk balladry of his past. 

Photo: Sarah Rodriquez

As I voyaged to Brooklyn Steel, I was giddy to see how it would all translate live. The air was buzzing at the 1,800-capacity venue, nestled into a commercial block in Williamsburg. Within the first five minutes of being inside Brooklyn Steel, I was given an answer to the question that started this whole thing. I was in an echo chamber of various British, Welsh, and Scottish accents. If you were wondering where every UK expat in NYC was the night of March 8th, I’ve got your answer. 

Opening the show up was Housewife, the Toronto-based project of Brighid Fry. They played angst-tinged indie pop music – coming-of-age ballads with lush instrumentation and the political blaze of a fed-up Gen-Z teenager. It was great, the crowd was vibing to it, but it went quick. Housewife knows how to rock a giant crowd, and clearly had fun, bopping all around the massive stage.

Then came Paolo Nutini and his band. He opened the show with the opening track from Last Night In The Bittersweet, and the record’s shining star, “Afterneath”. It’s a spectral, psychotropic tune with trouncing drums and fuzzy guitars, layered with Nutini’s forceful cry and a spoken word poem. He played a good mix of his old hits and new tracks from Last Night In The Bittersweet, all met with love from the crowd. Lovers embraced, friends smiled and chanted the words, and everyone was enthralled with Nutini’s passion and vocal mastery. 

In the background, kaleidoscopic orbs floated and pulsed, matching the energy of each song. It was entrancing, and I didn’t want the set to end. Neither did the spirited crowd – after a chock-full set, Nutini returned for a three song encore. 

Despite his best-selling records and sold out shows, something about Paolo Nutini feels like being in on a secret. His music is expansive and powerful, but still intimate and endearing. That translates live too, and despite observing the show from a distance at the back of the venue, I could have just as easily been the only person in the room. 

It’s a feeling that doesn’t come around often, but when it does, it’s quite special.