Conan Gray at the O2 Arena

In a time in which pop stars are just as much a brand as they are artists, Conan Gray understands the value of immersion. As fans arrive at the O2 Arena for the singer’s London stop of his Wishbone World Tour, the aesthetic is immediate. Striped shirts, sailor hats and clearly coordinated outfits transform the venue’s concourse into an extension of Gray’s melancholic universe. Even before the show begins, it feels less like something to witness and more like something to partake in. A pre-show quiz flashes across the screens as concert-goers chatter, cheer and groan as they play along. For an artist with just one UK top 20 single to his name, the scale of devotion surrounding the performer is remarkable. His appeal exists beyond the charts – it lives in the emotional depth of the atmosphere he creates.

Opening with My World, he sets the tone for the evening: spectacle paired with intimacy. A wishbone-shaped stage stretches into the crowd, allowing Gray moments of physical closeness with fans, though the visible divide between standing sections occasionally disrupts the illusion of togetherness.

The show unfolds across four acts – act i: a wishbone never breaks even, act ii: i got the short end of the stick, act iii: i took the long way to realization and act iv: i wished for love, and i found it – framed like chapters in a coming-of-age film. For those immersed in Gray’s universe, the structure feels purposeful and personal. For newcomers, however, the narrative occasionally lacks enough context to fully land. The bones of something special are here, but star power this potent deserves a wider point of entry.

Wish You Were Sober emerges as an early highlight, its pulsing energy elevated by Gray’s confident stage presence, while Class Clown showcases the performer’s stunning falsetto. Later, during People Watching, he gets up close to the barricade to sing directly to front-row fans, transforming the song’s yearning into something painfully tangible. The crowd responds with equal intensity.

Gray understands his audience are not here to simply hear the songs; they come to inhabit them. Despite the costume changes and elaborate set pieces, he never disappears beneath the theatrics. Instead, he uses them to sharpen his presence, remaining the undeniable focal point throughout.

The evening’s emotional centre arrives with Family Line, a devastating exploration of the singer’s difficult childhood. Standing alone on stage, he strips everything back. The arena falls near-silent as he delivers the song with a sincerity so raw it feels intrusive to witness. Elsewhere, lighter moments break up the heaviness. A mid-show attempt to find somebody to help break a wishbone and choose the next song is instead derailed by a cameo from “British icon Peppa Pig”, sending the arena into hysterics.

By the time Caramel closes the night, the O2 resembles less an arena and more a temporary sanctuary for collective heartbreak and healing. At times, the emotional richness threatens to overwhelm, as each song arrives in another wave of confession and longing. But the singer never resists the vulnerability, delivering a stellar evening of mutual catharsis. Dramatic, honest and completely captivating – that is what it is to spend an evening in Conan Gray’s world.