A giddy sense of anticipation fills SWG3 Galvanisers as the crowd awaits Del Water Gap’s return, only briefly softened by the quiet stillness brought by local opener Theo Bleak. The last time the Brooklyn-based indie pop star Samuel Holden Jaffe played in this room he was supporting girl in red, and he reminisces on this fondly as he thanks the crowd for joining him for his headlining set.

He opens with fan favourite “Small Town Joan of Arc”, emerging through flashing lights and billowing stage smoke in a classic grey tweed suit, worn effortlessly over a pale tank top and layered silver chains. Jaffe’s striking gaze sweeps over the crowd, accentuated by a wash of dark eyeshadow that cuts sharply across his cheekbones.

Fan engagement begins early, reflecting Jaffe’s signature brand of intimate indie-pop. At one point the lighting director steps aside and hands control of the rig to someone in the crowd: Grace, who is celebrating her birthday. For a moment she pilots the lights, colourful rays sweeping across the room while the band tears through an upbeat number.

Midway through the set, during “Beach House”, Jaffe sheds a layer and ends up in a tight grey tank that seems to free him up physically. He moves effortlessly across the stage, his signature coolness dripping off his shoulders as he dances around. I watch the girl in front of me’s dangly earrings swing along as Jaffe throws his hands up and spins back toward the band. Elsewhere, a girl gets on her friend’s shoulders, raising her arms to her favourite song. It’s one of many vignettes scattered across the room, lit by soft purples and white flashing lights.

Del Water Gap is met with a true Glasgow welcome, chants of “No Scotland, no party” and “Here we f*cking go” ringing through the crowd. At one point, Jaffe re-emerges from the pit draped in a Scotland flag, which he wears proudly like a cloak across his shoulders.

There are a couple of clumsy moments along the way. At one point the screen behind the band briefly flashes an HDMI menu, distracting momentarily from the elegant draped canopy surrounding Jaffe and co. When the visuals emerge, though, they work beautifully. Grainy black-and-white live footage of Jaffe flickers across the backdrop, contrasting against the warm orange light spilling across the stage. Occasionally the camera turns outward, scanning the audience and picking out rows of sweet, smiling faces who wave during their turn being projected overhead.

Near the end of the night, during “Perfume,” Jaffe slips off the stage and disappears into the crowd. The audience folds in around him, arms raised and voices ringing louder through the air. For a moment the room becomes one, the final notes dissolving into a choral cheer. I enter the show knowing very little about Del Water Gap, but I leave as a new fan.

Article: Anni Cameron