Jacob Alon @ The Caves, Edinburgh, 29 Jan

Jacob Alon is a young Fife singer-songwriter with a voice like Jeff Buckley, the songwriting of Nick Drake and the glitter and drama of Lana Del Rey.

At the time of this show, the non-binary star may only have two songs available online but Alon has spent years honing their craft in folk clubs across Scotland and they’re already generating serious buzz. Both super producer Dan Carey and Jools Holland have come calling and despite it being Alon’s first tour, The Caves is packed out.

Flamboyant support act Giant Hogweed do their best to ride the energy in the room, but it's clear that it's Jacob Alon everyone is here for. On Later With...Jools Holland, they looked like some kind of woodland sprite, brittle and hunched behind their acoustic guitar as if they might crumble in the spotlight. Tonight, with their curly black hair, glittery cheeks, giant golden necklace and black skirt, they're equally sylph-like but seem to have grown in confidence.

Between songs they’re gently conversational, joking about the queer experience in Edinburgh then switching on a dime to dedicate the next song to a “lonely young person”. Whether the song is for Alon themselves or another, it’s certainly a gift to the audience who seem to marvel at the light-as-smoke songcraft on show.

Image: Jacob Alon @ The Caves, Edinburgh, 29 Jan by John Mackie

Fluent in the argot of anxiety, Alon professes not to want to hide behind a persona but warns that they “need to take time to breathe”. But just when you think the show might derail, they snap back to levity: “This next song is about a chicken.” Whatever the subject, with Alon backed by a quartet of musicians who add subtle shading to their impressive finger picking, the sweltering Caves crowd are totally enraptured.

Between songs an audience member shouts out to ask what the tuning is. Alon pauses and says they think of them as a palette of colours, lending the songs their hue. Not everything is a serious dissection of the artist’s craft though. Instructing us to “indulge the child within yourself”, Alon and their troops find time to vamp through a cover of Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime rewritten with daft lyrics about gay sex and farting. Mostly though, it’s the kind of detail-oriented, lyrical and unflinching songwriting that brings to mind Conor Oberst or Rufus Wainwright.

Fairy in a Bottle in particular is the type of gorgeous, timeless ballad that feels as if it could have fallen through a wormhole from Vashti Bunyan’s travelling caravan, while Liquid Gold 25 spins a tale of a night out on poppers into a pin-sharp portrait of emotions spilling into the next morning. It’s a magical merging of modern vernacular and traditional craft and skill.

Now, this is a rare occasion where I will drop the attempt at objectivity and slip into the first person. I can’t remember seeing a Scottish act with more potential since I caught an early incarnation of Young Fathers play to a handful of audience members in a Glasgow bar almost 15 years ago. Alon is not the finished article yet, and tonight is far from a perfect show; the time spent retuning spins what could be a killer 50 minutes into a loose – but charming – hour and a quarter. 

There’s a whole lot that could go wrong. Maybe touring takes its toll, maybe the lucky breaks stop falling, maybe the muses stop speaking, but in terms of raw, bubbling potential anything is possible for Jacob Alon. It’ll be a delight to find out what the future holds.