Scotland

Up Late with Alabaster DePlume – The Hub

It is one of those nights at The Hub that I will not quite shake off, in both the best and the slightly sourest sense of the word. Alabaster DePlume, Angus Fairbairn, mid-forties Mancunian jazz poet supreme, takes to the stage in Palisadeau colours. ‘Genocide’, he gives it a name, and then he mentions that one of the festival’s backers also supports the regime in Israel. That the Festival by association supports the regime. A couple of audience members stand up and quietly leave. The tension is immediate, and it ripples through the room. It does not need to go there, but maybe it was always inevitable, he has, after all, never been capable of separating his politics from his performing.

But, politics aside, back to the music. The saxophone work is exceptional, rich with tone, breath, and attitude. He riffs with his band, a tight trio of musicians who each bring their own personality to the set, one vocalist floating wordless refrains, a bassist holding everything steady, and a drummer nudging the rhythm forward with sly accents. They are not just backing him, they are part of the conversation, part of the risk taking. At one point he jams alongside a recording from a market in Palestine, the sound of street life and voices weaving into his saxophone lines until it feels like the room is in two places at once. When Eva, from the festival crew, joins him on stage with a sitar towards the end of the evening, the whole atmosphere shifts. The sitar’s resonance curls around his saxophone lines, turning the improvisation into something hypnotic. This becomes the highlight for me, the point where the set feels less like a political rally and more like a late-night invocation.

He is restless on stage, speaking between numbers, part political activist, part poet, all musician, but always circling back to the same unvarnished honesty that defines his music. Early on he says, ‘We are going to need each other for what is coming, and I do not mean the rest of the gig,’ which gets a laugh, but there is an edge to it as well. He tells us, ‘Come for the wobbles, stay for the connection,’ and at one point adds, ‘I feel welcome as myself in your country.’ Some in the audience look lit up by his words, others look like they are bracing for the next political hit. But whatever the reaction, there is no mistaking that it is real. The melodies spin in circles, calming in one breath, stinging in the next. The room leans in and pulls back, like the tide.

By the end of the night, The Hub is buzzing, as much from the political polemic as from the music, it feels energised, brought to life. He finishes with a smile and says, ‘You think you have come to see me? No, I have come to see you. And I love you all.’ This is the kind of performance that does not fade quickly. It lingers, in the ear and in the mind, challenging you to think about what music can hold and what it can provoke.

Reviewer: Greg Holstead

Reviewed: 8^th August 2025

North West End UK Rating: