Opeth at Barrowland's Ballroom, Glasgow | Live Reviews

A sold-out Barrowland’s crowd welcomed Opeth for the final show of their European tour, and from the sheer length of the queue – snaking around street corners two hours before doors – you’d think half of Glasgow had turned up just for the merch stand.

Four tracks from their latest album, The Last Will and Testament, made the setlist, with frontman Mikael Åkerfeldt joking they didn’t include two more because they were “too difficult for us to play.” That mix of self-deprecation and staggering musicianship is exactly what makes Opeth, well… Opeth.

Between the guttural growls and intricate riffs, Mikael repeatedly described the whole evening as “pleasant.” His deadpan humour was razor-sharp throughout the night, from mishearing the Scottish crowd’s trademark “Here we, here we, here we fucking go” chant as “hairy, hairy, hairy fucking goats”, to standing in silence, waving at a fan like a proud mother before solemnly advising, “…Drink plenty of water.”

Then there was the moment he strummed a few simple G-C-D cowboy chords and mused, “Oh look, an electric guitar that sounds like an acoustic… I could be Ed Sheeran.” For a band so deeply immersed in labyrinthine compositions, seeing Mikael play the most basic of chords felt almost surreal.

There were surprises too. When someone shouted for The Baying of the Hounds, Mikael acknowledged it with “Good choice”, and we were treated to an impromptu two-minute tease of the track. For a band that meticulously crafts setlists to tackle their complex arrangements, the fact they can still pull out these off-the-cuff moments makes their shows feel even more personal, intimate, and alive.

And then came Mikael’s response to a recent review of The Last Will and Testament. Quoting a critic who described the album as a “return to form”, he scoffed before delivering his verdict: “They can fuck off”, which the crowd thoroughly enjoyed.

Musically, the performance was immaculate. The new material slotted into the set effortlessly. §1 opened with eerie, echoing footsteps before crashing into sharp, twisting riffs and growls – a reminder that, despite their prog evolution, Opeth can still go full-force when they want to. §3, jokingly dubbed the “hard rock/heavy metal song”, was introduced with a knowing chuckle, as if the band were distancing themselves from anything too simple. Yet, in the grand scheme of Opeth’s back catalogue, its ‘70s-inspired swagger almost felt rebellious – an immediate groove, big riffing, and a clear nod to their Sabbath roots. §7 leaned heavily into their progressive side, intertwining intricate passages that showed off the band’s technical precision while still feeling pretty raw. A Story Never Told closed out the main set, its sweeping, cinematic melodies offering a rare moment of reflection before the encore.

Speaking of the encore, Mikael was not subtle.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to leave for beer o’clock. You guys are going to cheer. We’re going to pretend we’re not coming back out. Maybe keep you on your toes for a bit. Then we’re going to come out again and you will all be surprised and cheering. That’s what’s going to happen. Maybe.”

And sure enough, they returned with the opening drum and bass groove of Sorceress, which may be the shortest track on the set. Just enough to get us reacquainted for “is it 12 minutes or 14 minutes?” Deliverance.

“We sometimes play it faster when we’re excited, so we’ll see.”

Deliverance, as always, ended with its regimented chugging outro turning the band into statues, their hands the only thing moving in perfect sync with the fiery red flashes of light, as the entire crowd was locked in a hypnotic trance. Every note, every synchronised movement, was precise – right down to the final, full-band cutout, plunging the stage into darkness before the venue erupted.

A final round of bows, smiles, and “thank you for a special evening” sealed a night that was, in Mikael’s words, pleasant– a word that had become a running joke by the end of the gig.

As the crowd spilled out of Barrowland’s into the freezing Glasgow night, you could see it in everyone’s faces: they weren’t just musically fulfilled, they had that same kind of grin you get after watching a brilliant comedy.

How pleasant.