Inside The Hub, Edinburgh International Festival’s cosy yet grandiose base of operations, an eager crowd are primed for an evening only Alabaster DePlume could deliver. Armchairs and beanbags filled the church-like space, and when the band walk on stage, the lights dim, as if their very presence soothes the room.

The set features six extended renditions of his circular, tactile, saxophone-led jazz arrangements. DePlume’s music is beautiful and deeply evocative – a fluttering, poignant, golden-hour journey. Some songs are entirely instrumental; others built towards moments where he can stop playing and begin reciting a poem or telling a story. One particularly memorable point sees him spiralling into a mantra about being present: “I am here now, I am here now… sometimes you’re reciting a poem but you need to stop to realise, I am here now!”

The band (drums, bass, a vocalist, and DePlume on saxophone) play with an intimacy that The Hub’s sound team render perfectly. Each performer sounds rich and clear, their gentle melodies intertwining like streams meeting and meandering into a river.

The music flows through the audience in waves of emotional highs and lows. Each song bookended by heartfelt philosophical reflections on the things that carry us through life’s harder moments: balance, gratitude, energy, presence, and, above all, LOVE. At times, it feels a little like being cornered at a house party by an overly friendly stranger, but the sincerity with which DePlume tells us how loved and precious we were made it hard not to be swept up in the moment. If you’re feeling really harsh it could be labelled as overly-sentimental babble, but for those on his wavelength, the connection between performer and audience is genuinely special.

The album this tour supports, A Blade Because A Blade Is Whole, is about facing the pain of existence head-on and believing in the ability to overcome it. True to that sentiment, DePlume doesn’t shy away from political statements. He speaks openly about the ongoing genocide in Gaza and criticises Edinburgh International Festival’s sponsorship by Baillie-Gifford, a firm with investments in arms companies supplying the IDF. The night carries these themes in its visual language too: the performers’ clothing and lighting echo the colours of the Palestinian flag; a keffiyeh is draped over DePlume’s shoulders and microphone; and the song ‘Gifts of Olive’ weaves protest into poetry (“See the olive tree, afraid in time / Flames of candles, trees of silence climb”). One of his most recognisable pieces, ‘Whiskey Story Time’, is performed over a live recording of a bustling Palestinian market — a backdrop that makes the music’s emotional weight undeniable.

If the night had a misstep, it arrives in the final song. Guest performer Ewa Adamiec joins on sitar for a fully improvised piece. The musicianship is exceptional, but the piece lacks development and overstays its welcome, ending the set with less impact than it deserved.

Still, any minor falter is outweighed by the lasting impression. DePlume’s performance leave the room bathed in that strange mix of warmth and melancholy his music conjures so well — a space where tenderness, mischief, and unflinching humanity coexist.