Houston-born, LA-based John Vincent III writes hushed folk songs that lean on fingerpicked guitar and close-mic vocals. After a quiet break from the grind, he returned with a roomier, canyon-tinged sound that still feels handmade.
Quiet roads, big feelings
A likely set runs on patient arcs, with songs like
Highway,
Next to You,
Blue Jean Baby, and the slow-bloom
Canyon easing in. The crowd skews toward careful listeners: young songwriters comparing chords, pairs sharing earbuds before the show, and folks who clap between verses rather than talk. One neat detail: many early tracks began as voice memos, then grew with sparse layers and a soft double of the lead vocal. He often tunes a half-step down live and uses a ribbon mic to keep that paper-soft edge while the band stays minimal. Fair warning: these song choices and production touches are my best read from past shows, not a locked plan.
The Gentle Scene Around John Vincent III
Laurel Canyon by way of now
The scene is calm and tidy, with earth-tone jackets, worn denim, and boots that look ready for wet sidewalks. People hold the quiet, hum parts under their breath, then cheer hard at the first chord of a favorite. You will see notebooks at the bar, folks comparing capo positions, and a polite line for the merch table. Merch leans simple and useful: lyric tees in soft colors, a small-run poster, and a vinyl pressing that sells early.
Little rituals
Crowd energy rises on the final chorus and drops to a hush for tag lines, like everyone knows where the silence should live. It feels like a book club that meets in a venue, trading song scraps instead of chapters. The mood invites care over volume, which suits songs built for close range and end-of-day pace.
How John Vincent III Builds Quiet That Carries
Soft focus, sharp ears
His voice sits just above a whisper, rounded and dry, so the consonants land like brushes on a snare. Guitars favor fingerpicking in mid-tempo sway, with a capo high up the neck for glassy chords that leave room for the vocal. The band is small but useful: a drummer on brushes and rods, a bassist who moves in long notes, and occasional pedal steel for glow. Songs often start bare, add a second guitar or keys on the second verse, and lift the chorus with a simple harmony instead of volume jumps. A neat live habit is dropping to open-D or a half-step down, which deepens the guitar and lets him lean into lower notes without strain.
Light as texture
Lights tend toward amber and soft blue, cueing swells rather than strobe, so the ears lead and the eyes follow. Arrangements rely on space and repetition, turning small motifs into the spine of the song while keeping the pulse relaxed.
If You Like John Vincent III, You Might Drift This Way
Kinfolk for your ears
Fans of
Gregory Alan Isakov will connect with the slow-burn storytelling and lantern-dim dynamics.
Ben Howard fits for his hushed intensity and the way the guitar drives mood as much as melody. If you like the airy textures and falsetto swells of
Novo Amor, the gentle shimmer in these arrangements will feel familiar. And
Leif Vollebekk lines up in the intimate, piano-and-guitar space where small rhythmic shifts carry big weight. All four lean into quiet rooms, careful words, and sets that breathe instead of rush.
Why it tracks
The overlap is about tone and patience, with songs built to bloom at low volume and reward people who listen close. You get warmth over flash, and a live feel that values space, timbre, and steady pulse.
