Bolis Pupul @ Sneaky Pete's, Edinburgh, 30 Oct

Bolis Pupul delivers another glorious night in the sweatbox. On arrival, the whole room is pulsating with the chatter of the discerning folk you see at all the best gigs in town. This is going to be a good night. On opening duties, there is Leo Vincent, Pupul’s fellow Belgian and labelmate on Soulwax’s DEEWEE label, who provides a suitably quirked-up synth-rock intro complete with a jacked vintage telephone. 

The wonderful thing about Sneaky Pete’s lack of green room is that you can catch the artists milling about before their set. En route to the bar, Pupul’s debonair curls and navy trenchcoat flash through the crowd, drawing attention to how well-dressed everyone is tonight. Two men in suits make me wonder if Soulwax’s Dewaele brothers fancied a night in Sneaks, or that perhaps someone decided on an early, particularly niche Halloween costume. 

A final pre-set detail is the witty merch; T-shirts with Chinese standard script: “I can’t speak Cantonese / And my Mandarin isn’t any better.” It’s this gentle yet incisive handling of race, identity and language that's so well-captured on Pupul’s solo album, released in March of this year, titled Letter to Yu, which germinated from his fruitful collaboration with Charlotte Adigéry, notably on 2022’s insightful electro-pop powerhouse Topical Dancer.

Framed by studio lights that evoke an editorial photoshoot as opposed to a gig, Pupul begins an exercise in thudding bass and inquisitive synth lines infused with traditional Chinese motifs. Squelching acid breakdowns elicit audible delight from the crowd. It’s clear that Pupul understands what appeals to the dancefloor as much as he does to the home listener. During emotive synth-pop track Completely Half, when the bass recedes and his voice emerges to ponder his Belgian-Chinese heritage, it appears that being vulnerable on stage may be something Pupul’s still exploring. It’s a delight to be among those he wants to share that experience with. 

It’s clear that Pupul feels safe in that vulnerability when he purrs to the crowd, “Let me get a good look at you,” stepping into the lights to graciously thank everyone for being there. The feeling of familiarity continues when Pupul’s sister Salah jumps on stage to add windswept, melancholy vocals to touching maternal tribute, Ma Tau Wai Road.

The set leaps into Doctor Says, a riot-inducing stomper spiked with industrial synth shards. Unbeknown to a presumably predominantly English-speaking crowd, the song is interspersed with a nonchalant monologue of a man concerned with his gastrointestinal health. By this time, the crowd is cheering Pupul on at every turn, fully committed and hoping the music doesn’t stop. Inevitably, of course the music has to end, yet Pupul is an artist who perfectly embodies the gig-into-club ethos of Sneaky Pete’s and it’s almost certain a few well-warmed punters end up at the club afterwards. 

It’s safe to say Edinburgh loves Bolis Pupul and it sounds like, after a quick survey of the empty merch table, he loves us too. Which means most importantly, he’ll be back.