Live Report: Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit bring guitar heroics and heartbreak to the 3Olympia Theatre

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit returned to the 3Olympia Theatre, Dublin, on Wednesday night, delivering a performance that was equal parts rock and a masterclass in musicianship.

There were no elaborate stage productions, no gimmicks, and no attempts to manufacture moments. Instead, Isbell and his band relied on the one thing they know they can trust - the music.

Opening with '24 Frames', the band wasted little time establishing the tone for the evening. From the get-go, the synchronisation between the lighting and the music was striking. Bright white beams flashed in time with guitar riffs before settling into softer hues as the song unfolded. It was subtle rather than spectacular, complementing the music without distracting from it.

The mood shifted quickly for the second song. Another of Isbell's solo works, 'Something More Than Free'.

'Something More Than Free' is a blue-collar narrative exploring the dignity, exhaustion, and sacrifice of manual labour. The occasional harmonies from the band add warmth and texture as Isbell told the story of a working-class protagonist who finds a sense of peace and purpose in doing his duty, filling out the band's already rich sound without overshadowing Isbell's voice.

One of the most impressive aspects of the evening was the band's willingness to stretch songs beyond their studio versions. Isbell and guitarist Sadler Vaden built a sound around weaving dual-lead guitar lines, trading bluesy, improvisational licks.

Several of the louder, more anthemic songs were greeted by what could be described as a quietly appreciative audience. This wasn't a crowd interested in shouting every lyric back at the stage. Instead, looking at the listeners, they seemed absorbed by the stories unfolding in Isbell's songs, with tracks like 'Cover Me Up' reflecting on his journey of overcoming substance abuse and finding love during that dark period. While the riffs and drums drew applause, it was his lyricism that held the room's attention.

Isbell himself seemed relaxed; he repeatedly praised his drummer Chad Gamble throughout the evening, and the small moments of appreciation reinforced the sense that this is a band built on mutual respect and that the relationship they've built in the past 18 years has kept them energised.

Even someone arriving with a scepticism of Americana and Southern Rock would have struggled to resist tapping a foot by the middle of the set.

When Isbell introduced 'Maybe It's Time', the song he wrote for A Star Is Born, he described it as "not a hit song, but it was a hit song in a movie," before praising Bradley Cooper's rendition in the film: "He did a beautiful job."

Whatever its chart credentials, the song is up there as one of Isbell's finest, and in the intimate surroundings of the Olympia, it landed with devastating force. The lyrics on ageing, regret and the struggle for redemption landed powerfully. Cooper earned an Academy Award nomination for his portrayal of Jackson Maine, but Isbell's rendition was every bit as moving as the on-screen version.

Towards the end of the set, Isbell asked the crowd, "You guys remember the pandemic?" before recalling his strangest aspect of that period: One of the things that was really fucked up was having to perform and play in front of screens instead of people." That sentiment led to a request, "So what I'd like to ask," he said, looking around the theatre, "Please don't film. Let's be present in the room and just hang out."

"We'll probably get blown up in about six weeks anyway, let's enjoy ourselves," he quipped, referring to the actions of his President Donald Trump, whom he consistently criticises during shows. It was a fitting opening to his next song, 'Cast Iron Skillet', one of his many non-traditional political songs telling the cautionary tale of romanticised Southern traditions and ingrained prejudices.

The night concluded with an encore that showcased both sides of Isbell's songwriting. 'If We Were Vampires' calmed the room into near silence, with its meditation on love and morality. Then came 'King of Oklahoma', a bruised and defiant closer that sent the audience back out into the rain with a reminder of Isbell's gift for telling extraordinary stories from ordinary lives.