22 October 2025 (gig)
29 October 2025
The first time Larkin Poe came to my attention was during the dark months of the pandemic. Social media was flooded with their videos back then. And that content was life-affirming for me...
With pure joy and wholesome Georgian grit rolled together, Larkin Poe showcase just how deeply authentic their sound is, rooted in classic rock, southern rock and bluegrass. Those online performances and videos always felt intimate and honest, and like a shot of something real when the world was at a standstill. Then, somehow, they slipped off my radar for a while. Until now. And what a re-introduction this Birmingham show turned out to be.
The O2 Institute was packed. And, after being treated to the wonderfully soulful vibes of Son Little (whom I’d previously seen perform solo at Pappy & Harriet's in the Yucca Valley), the crowd was eager for the Larkin Poe sisters to get on stage.
From north Georgia and now based in Nashville, Rebecca and Megan Lovell have been honing their craft for over a decade. From their early days as The Lovell Sisters to their reinvention as Larkin Poe, they’ve carved a niche as purveyors of southern roots-rock with bite, steeped in tradition yet unafraid of modern production muscle.
From the opening notes, the energy was electric. The set struck a balance between their newest material and the stuff that they’ve built a rep on, and it landed beautifully. “Easy Love” is one of the latest tracks, and it was a standout. Swaggering yet tender, with a Sheryl Crow vibe pinning it all down. Rebecca’s vocals cut through the mix like a hot knife through butter (as always), and listening to the crowd’s response, it was clear that the band’s evolution is being embraced wholeheartedly.
Midway through the evening, they changed gears completely. The full band gathered around a single vintage microphone for a bluegrass-style acoustic interlude. It was an intimate, harmony-rich moment that felt like being invited into their living room. Guitars, mandolin, upright bass and close harmonies filled the room with warmth, and for a few songs the O2 Institute became a front-porch jam in the heart of Birmingham. It was one of those rare concert moments where a hush falls over a crowd, with very few phones distracting. I felt it.
Speaking of feeling it, a surprise that brought the house down came next: a searing nod to Birmingham’s own Black Sabbath. Following the tragic passing of rock icon Ozzy Osbourne earlier this year, the sisters and their blistering band launched into a muscular, blues-driven slice of War Pigs that didn’t feel gimmicky or forced. It felt like real respect and was delivered with heart, and with their own southern feel — the slide guitar made sure of the latter.
Sadly, though, after the magic of the bluegrass acoustic moment, and the stomp and oomph of the Sabbath cover, things did drop off a touch. In part, I suspect that was to do with the crowd (a surprisingly older bunch than those at most gigs I’ve seen at this venue) seeming to be a bit less engaged. The band felt that, I think. And I pass no judgement. I’m 43 myself, and I'm usually knackered three songs into a show. Also, I'm absolutely in awe of people getting out and enjoying live music no matter what their age. That said, it did feel like some of the energy and enthusiasm for things waned.
It’s impossible not to mention that Rebecca just gave birth, a mere 10 weeks before this show. You’d never have known. Her performance was fierce, fearless and full of energy. Between songs, her easy rapport with the audience radiated gratitude and groundedness. And that can be said for both sisters. You could see their love and passion for their craft, and just how grateful they were for the love and support they received.
Megan’s slide-guitar work was something to behold, too, by the way. It always looks effortless — it’s anything but. She’s honed that craft and is one of the best in the business, as far as I’m concerned. Her touch is fluid, lyrical and razor-sharp. And, behind her and her sister, the rhythm section was tight and grooving, which created all the room they needed to do their thing.
Larkin Poe are, quite simply, the real deal. They’re authentic musicians. Like, they actually play, and play fucking well. Their music channels the soul of the American south while keeping their feet firmly in the present. And right now, it feels needed. I can’t say why, specifically, but authenticity in a time of an abundance of superficial online personas feels important.
Maybe I'm just getting old.
