On an emotional Friday night, The Pinnacle hummed with a reverent hush as Jason Isbell stepped onto a sparsely lit stage, solo, to offer a 90-minute confessional in song. With only a guitar, four spotlights and the weight of a year marked by personal heartbreak and reckoning, Isbell transformed the venue into something closer to a church than a concert hall.

Isbell opened with “Overseas,” and, from the first note, it was clear this would not be a typical evening. The crowd did not sing along or shout over the music — many individuals leaned closer and listened. The setlist unfolded like a storybook as Isbell guided us through the wreckage and grace of his life.

In the year since his public split from fellow musician Amanda Shires, Isbell has chosen solitude, both artistically and emotionally. His performance mirrored that, as it was stripped down to its bones, with nothing to hide behind. His newest album “Foxes in the Snow” already felt seeped in wisdom at only two weeks old. The tracks seemed to put forth a fragile offering, including songs “White Beretta,” “Dreamsicle” and “Tupelo.” The title track, performed early in the set, sounded like a quiet prayer for clarity.

Isbell did not avoid any elephant in the room. At one point, he deadpanned about his past troubles with alcohol and arrest, noting that if he ever ended up in jail again, it would be for political reasons. The crowd laughed, but the air never lost its ache.

Isbell moved chronologically through his discography like thumbing through old photographs, pausing at “Last of My Kind” and “King of Oklahoma,” letting silence stretch out just enough to let each lyric bruise. The Drive-By Truckers sang “Danko/Manuel” and made a surprise appearance, grounding us in Isbell’s roots before he pivoted into a run of songs that felt like a slow-burn epiphany: “Outfit,” “Cast Iron Skillet,” “Don’t Be Tough” and “Eileen.”

“Forever is a dead man’s joke,” Isbell sang in “Eileen,” and the line lingered around the stage long after the song had ended.

Before playing his Grammy-winning track “Cast Iron Skillet,” Isbell couldn’t resist lightening the mood.

“Just remember — you can wash the skillet. Just do not do everything else I tell you not to do in that song,” Isbell said. 

It was a rare moment of levity in an otherwise stripped-down, emotionally vulnerable night.

The encore brought Isbell’s friend and fellow singer David Rawlings to the stage, where two acoustic guitars met in harmony for a final number that felt like a benediction. It was not flashy. It was not loud. It was real.

Jason Isbell did not come to the Pinnacle to prove anything to anyone. He came to sing honestly, and he did, softly and with grace.