In a room that’s seen legends stumble through heartbreak and hallelujahs, Marc Scibilia brought something rare to Irving Plaza on April 11: sincerity without spectacle. He didn’t need lasers or pretense. Just a loop pedal, a drummer who knew when to disappear, and a voice that feels like it remembers your childhood better than you do.

Marc Scibilia is an American singer-songwriter, musician, and producer known for his soulful blend of pop rock with folk and alternative influences. Born in Buffalo, New York, he grew up in a musical family and began playing music at the age of four. After high school, Scibilia moved to Nashville, Tennessee, to pursue a career in music.

Scibilia gained national attention with his song “How Bad We Need Each Other,” featured on the television series “Bones.” His rendition of “This Land Is Your Land” was prominently used in Jeep’s 2015 Super Bowl commercial, becoming one of the most Shazamed moments of the telecast.

In 2015, he released his debut full-length album, Out Of Style, which debuted at No. 7 on the “Singer-Songwriter” chart. His collaboration with German DJ Robin Schulz on the song “Unforgettable” reached No. 1 on the German radio airplay charts and was certified gold.

Scibilia’s subsent albums include Seed of Joy (2020), inspired by personal experiences of loss and new beginnings, and More To This (2024), which featured the viral title track that garnered over 50 million views and 10 million streams.

Throughout his career, Scibilia has toured with artists such as James Bay, Zac Brown Band, and ZZ Ward. He continues to write, record, and produce music from his studio in East Nashville.

Scibilia, who’s quietly become a digital-era troubadour with viral success and over a million Instagram followers, walked onstage like a man trying to earn your attention—not one who assumes he already has it. But then again, that’s always been his ambiance: part Springsteen grit, part bedroom confessional, all delivered with the instinct of someone who’s had to build his audience brick by brick.

Opening with “Halfway There,” the track that turned a five-year-old’s existential question into a generational anthem, he stood under soft lighting—his voice almost too raw, too honest for the glossy world outside. There was a moment in the chorus where the crowd didn’t cheer or sing along—they just listened. In this TikTok era of noise and reaction, silence might be the loudest applause of all.

From there, Scibilia moved like a ghost in and out of genre—country, indie rock, soul-pop—looping guitar lines and piano riffs with the grace of a man who knows his tools intimately. On “Best Kept Secret,” the room swayed like a last slow dance at prom. On “Human,” it felt like every phone was down, every heart slightly split open.

The crowd was a patchwork: teen fans who found him through Reels, thirty-somethings who remembered his Bones sync days, parents in their forties humming along to his Jeep ad anthem like it never left them. And maybe that’s the point of Scibilia’s music—it doesn’t ask you where you came from, it just offers you a place to land.

By the time he closed the night with “Jericho,” standing modestly alone under a single spotlight, it didn’t feel like a concert anymore. It felt like we were all back on those back steps with him—holding our breath while he searched words bigger than life and death.

Some artists blow the roof off a venue. Scibilia plants something inside the room that keeps growing long after the lights go out.