Julia Jacklin @ Stereo, Glasgow, 2 Apr

Julia Jacklin is the kind of artist to laugh her set off as a bunch of depressing songs, seconds after making most in the room cry. She’s already done both tonight after the first song, Body. It’s a patient telling of the final moments that caused a breakup, and the rush of self-awareness and vulnerability that comes after. With its slow, churning guitar and bare melody, she paints the relationship as doomed from the opening seconds, capturing a feeling of being untethered and alone thanks to failed love(rs) that’ll colour much of the set.

She ends the first verse seeing straight for the first time, reclaiming her senses. Then, she remembers an intimate photograph her partner still holds, and wonders if he’ll use it to hurt her. 'I guess it’s just my life / And it’s just my body', she sings, sinking into the bottom of her vocal range, staring straight ahead. The vulnerability of this moment hits so hard because of Jacklin’s strength and command as a vocalist and performer, saying nothing of her striking honesty.

These have always been features of her live performances – her 2017 Glasgow show for the BBC 6 Music Festival was just as impressive – but there’s a newfound depth to these feelings now, thanks in part to the comfortable air Jacklin has on stage. In a moment of levity, she admits the band spent last night in Cosmopol on their one night off. Her karaoke selections were a surprising ‘Cock Rock Trifecta’ of AC/DC, Aerosmith and Foo Fighters. She says her voice is feeling the effects today, not that you’d notice. It’d be hard to imagine her being so flippant on stage even two years ago.

This cool confidence is heard on now-classics like Don’t Let the Kids Win, where the band slow down and let the silence between each line do its work: 'We’re gonna keep on getting older / It’s gonna keep on feeling strange' Jacklin strains, threatening to crumble each time she repeats it. In the quiet, you can hear the plumbing whoosh from upstairs in Stereo’s basement venue – a seal of approval for any band aiming to transfix a crowd.

The new and old material fuses powerfully, but it’s the reflections on her ownership over herself that connect with the most anger and passion. The one-two punch of Head Alone and Pressure to Party is an intense way to finish an emotionally rich set, with a ramshackle climax and cathartic screams heard very rarely on a Julia Jacklin song. Naturally, the encore is Jacklin alone at a guitar, singing a depressing song. It’s the kind of thing she'd likely scoff at herself for, the way a lot of people do when making themselves vulnerable. Even in those moments, her strength is crushing, more so than any of the sadness in these songs.