On a crisp October night at London’s Roundhouse, Wyatt Flores stepped onto the stage to a roaring crowd, his name echoing around the vaulted room with a force that surprised even him. Supporting 49 Winchester on their UK run, the Oklahoma-born singer-songwriter might technically have been the opener, but from the reaction that greeted him, it was clear many had come just as much for Wyatt.
Dressed in a smart suit jacket and trousers with an open shirt, he looked equal parts Southern charm and city sophistication. “I dressed up for London,” he grinned, soaking up the applause before cracking open a can of Stella. The moment was pure Wyatt, unfiltered, funny, and real. “What do you call this again?” he asked, smirking as he raised the beer to the crowd. “Should someone wearing a suit really be drinking one of these?” Laughter rippled through the room as he took a sip and shrugged, the ice instantly broken.
What followed was an intimate, arresting set that felt far bigger than its slot on the bill. Armed with only a guitar and that unmistakable voice, gritty yet silky, worn but hopeful, Flores commanded the Roundhouse with the ease of a storyteller who knows exactly where to place silence, melody, and truth.
Tracks like Please Don’t Go, Losing Sleep, and Don’t Want to Say Goodbye had the crowd singing along word for word, voices echoing up to the old brick rafters. It’s a remarkable thing to witness in a support slot: a sea of strangers united in songs about heartbreak, recovery, and the small moments that make life bearable.
Early in the set, Flores paused and asked the audience with a shy smile, “So, how many of y’all actually know who I am?” He assumed most were there for 49 Winchester, but the cheer that followed told a different story. The look of genuine surprise on his face said everything.
That unguarded sincerity is what draws people to Wyatt Flores. He has never shied away from talking about his struggles with mental health, and that openness extends naturally into his performances. Midway through the set, he introduced a cover of The Fray’s How to Save a Life, prefacing it with quiet honesty: “I didn’t write this song, but it means a lot to me. And being in a room full of people who feel that too… it means we’re not alone.” What could have been a well-worn cover instead became a shared confession, one that silenced the room and left more than a few misty eyes among the crowd.
There’s an almost old-school purity to the way Flores performs. No frills, modest backing band, just heart, grit, and craft. His vocals, both weathered and warm, carry the emotional weight of someone twice his age. Between songs, his laugh cuts through the intensity, grounding the show with a disarming charm that feels effortless.
Having caught Flores at The Long Road Festival last year, where he spoke candidly about how music has helped him through dark times, it’s striking to see how much he’s grown, not just as a performer, but as someone who knows exactly how to hold a crowd in his palm. What he might not realise, though, is how many in that audience use his music in the same way: as a reminder to keep going.
By the time he closed his set, the Roundhouse was fully his. What started as a support slot felt more like a headline moment, a rising artist standing at the edge of something bigger. Wyatt Flores may have come to London in a suit, but he left with something far more fitting: the love and loyalty of a city that’s already waiting for his return.
Live review of Wyatt Flores @ Roundhouse, London, by Henry Finnegan on 14th October 2025. Instagram: @finneganfoto | Facebook: @finneganfoto
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