From life in Fife to winner of BRITs’ 2026 Critics’ Choice award, Jacob Alon’s ascent, they say, has been “mad in beautiful ways.” Carrying their childhood self with them on their meteoric rise, their divine-meets-physical world of debut album, In Limerence proves it isn’t always the loudest voices which get heard, sometimes it’s those who climb quietly with grace.

It is 10.30pm under a Texan moon. Below the spotlights of Austin’s Creek and Cave backyard stage, Jacob Alon is mid-discussion with the sound tech. Furrowed brows suggest something’s amiss before Jacob’s dulcet Scots burr offers the gentlest apology: “We’ve tried everything and just can’t make it work,” they tell the audience down the mic. Landing in the heart of music industry bedlam that is South by Southwest where genres collide as they bleed into the air, tonight’s Scotland Showcase is no exception as the rock band next door unintentionally drown Jacob out. “I’d been awake for 30 hours and was looking forward to the show, so when it didn’t work, I was so
disappointed,” Jacob recalls sadly, one afternoon twelve months later, before filming their debut Graham Norton TV performance.

“Softness and vulnerability can be bold and powerful; I’ve found sometimes the quieter you play, the more people listen.“

Clearly the noise of support for Jacob’s world has grown louder, only this time they are cutting through it their own way. Whilst aggravated punks yell frustrations of injustice, Jacob takes down the opposition like a daisy in a gun; delivering their soul-bearing storytelling with heavenly delicacy. Yet, recalling Nick Drake, Jeff Buckley, or Patrick Wolf with a dash of glitter or feather here and there, their enchanting stage presence is anything but understated. “In the face of hatred and violence, tenderness can be radical, so I wonder if others are feeling that” they consider of their growing appeal. “Softness and vulnerability can be bold and powerful; I’ve found sometimes the quieter you play, the more people listen. I treasure those moments where space is held for that;
it’s beautiful because it requires more from a collective of people to come together to maintain a still order, rather than giving in to chaos and entropy. To hold and be in that moment makes something so worthwhile for everyone. It’s literally a conversation with the audience.

Audiences have certainly taken notice. With only a week’s warning, Jacob – a barefooted vision of Icarus wrapped in scarlet with pants of golden plumage – found themself following in the footsteps of fellow Fifer KT Tunstall, performing debut single ‘Fairy In A Bottle’ on Later.. with Jools Holland. “I was given a chance; it was surreal but special; like climbing inside a TV screen” they recall. Since then whether passing instruments around secret campfire sets at festivals, European shows with Olly Alexander, or George Michael duets with Kae Tempest on tour, Jacob’s life has become as rousing as their performances – on stages always adorned with flags of Palestine and the Trans community. “Our world is so abrasive and brutal right now, I want to scream” they say. “Maybe what I do next will be charged with that anger. Recently, in some moments of despair, I’ve been listening to Nirvana’s In Utero. It’s so cathartic, I’m finally angry enough to understand it.”

“I didn’t think this world had any space of belonging for someone like me; especially where I came from, there’s a limit for how high you should dare to dream. Now it’s like I’ve broken through about 15 ceilings.

Now, awards from Rolling Stone to becoming shortlisted for Scottish Album of the Year and a Mercury prize have paved way for a BRIT award. “It’s so lovely to have the recognition,” they say. “I didn’t expect this sort of music to find a place in the mainstream, but I’m grateful it has.” News of the BRIT prize came when environmental concerns led Jacob on a failed hunt for a universal vape adapter to the Ibrox stadium. “On my way home, feeling defeated by capitalism, consumerism, and corporate greed, I heard this distant chant – hundreds of Rangers fans spilling out of the stadium. I ran to the station to avoid a train packed with football supporters. My manager called telling me I’d won. It was quite dramatic.”

Growing up in Fife meant less drama. A place with little opportunity for aspiring musicians, Jacob turned to music only after exploring other ambitions, including a career in medicine. “I’ve learned there’s other ways to heal people; music has helped me a lot. It might not be invasive life-saving procedures, but it’s what I can do,” they say. When the pandemic hit, it became time to re-evaluate life decisions; Edinburgh beckoned. “I’d decided ‘fuck it, I’ll just make music for myself, live in this van, work to get by and live honestly doing something I love,’” they recall.

It was there, as lockdown began to lift, Jacob stumbled across a group of musicians on the street standing two metres apart; they were at once welcomed into the circle of trust with open arms. “This group of lovely people, old folkies, all ages, were singing songs and passing around a guitar, sanitising it between players. They waved me over and asked me to do a song. They were so receptive and encouraging; my first real audience.” With restrictions easing. Jacob joined them for sessions at Captain’s Bar to test new material. “That’s where I learned to love performing and be less afraid of giving and losing myself in the moment.”

Losing yourself pervades In Limerence. The heartbreakingly fragile pay-off at the end of ‘Confession’ seamlessly blends into a soaring powerful vocal alongside the Bright Eyes guitar of ‘Elijiah.’ It captures a liminal fantasia which lingers hours after awakening; a dream which wrestles with limerence’s spell of reimagining the idea of someone outside of reality. Recorded with producer Dan Carey (Fontaines D.C., Grimes), quick experimentation is taken to new levels; reflecting the blurred lines of Jacob’s friend Rory’s blended watercolor artwork, the perfect amount of glitchy imperfection keeps it honest. “Dan’s a musical force, working with him was the greatest joy,” they say. “We hit it off immediately, sharing curiosity about physics and math… he’s so funny, I trust his instinct; we’ve become great friends.”

Helping their mum move house at the time of recording, like unearthing hidden treasure, Jacob discovered a collection of unlabeled video tapes capturing a young Jacob in animated conversation. Just as the album reveres youth, purity, innocence and wide-eyed wonder, it formed the basis for Jacob’s favourite track, ‘Home Tapes’ – a natural connection to the ‘Zathura’ story from their childhood. “Witnessing these threads of limerence offered an explanation to those early attachment styles. It felt right to include that idea of memory and suspended longing within the record.” Entirely improvised, Jacob selected audio clips from nine hours of footage, giving timestamps to Carey who triggered the samples whilst Jacob played guitar. “It was born in a moment of magic; afterwards we laid on the studio floor to listen; I cried, it was like I’d healed something wounded in me.”

If they could time-travel, telling young Jacob about the year they’ve had, how would they react? “I didn’t think this world had any space of belonging for someone like me; especially where I came from, there’s a limit for how high you should dare to dream. Now it’s like I’ve broken through about 15 ceilings. In moments of surrealness like playing on Graham’s show tomorrow, I’m going to take my younger self with me, show them around, have fun and appreciate the moment.”

If 2025 was a roadmap, Jacob’s inner child will need to buckle up for 2026. Having just announced a London Roundhouse headliner to give In Limerence one final send off before laying it to rest, more ceilings will surely shatter as Jacob dials up the volume for those at the back. “I’d love to keep fighting the good fight, use my voice for activism and use this platform for good,” they say. It should come as no surprise; after all, it is the quiet ones you have to watch.

This feature appeared as a beautiful printed article, in The Rodeo magazine’s official BRIT award special edition zine, published February 2026.