Perfection. A love letter to groove, grit and soul — and a near-spiritual reminder of how good live music can feel when played by masters who get it.

What began as a Bill Withers tribute became something more: a quasi-recreation of his legendary Live at Carnegie Hall (1973), but with a few deeper cuts and a whole lot of Edinburgh heartbeat. No flab, no phoning it in — just four musicians laying it down with finesse and feeling.

Aki Remally, leading on vocals and guitar, sets the bar impossibly high from the opener Ain’t No Sunshine. His voice is pitch-perfect — warm, lived-in, with just the right rasp — and the room locks in from the first breath. It’s not an impersonation. It’s an interpretation. And it works beautifully.

Grandma’s Hands becomes a low-key masterclass in atmosphere: Michael J Watson’s keys shimmer with gospel undertones, while Rom Wilkinson’s bassline nods cheekily to Come Together — Beatles-esque swagger meeting soul church sincerity. Ben Collard, ever the quiet architect, keeps things anchored with drumwork that’s subtle, tight, and never showy.

By Better Off Dead, the groove deepens — funky, loose-hipped brilliance that wouldn’t be out of place in a New Orleans bar at 2 a.m. You could see shoulders loosening across the room. This band doesn’t just play Withers — they live in the pocket he built.

Harlem is a standout. Delivered with grit and lyrical precision, it evokes the same smoky grandeur as Across 110th Street — two of the greatest street-level songs ever written about New York’s undercurrent. The band handles it with reverence and fire.

Lean On Me, so often butchered in karaoke bars and weddings, is reborn here — intimate, raw, and deeply emotional. You could see couples visibly leaning into each other, hands tightening, as Aki delivered each line like a hymn.

From there: Use Me slinks along with sinuous bass and just the right kind of filth. Lonely Town, Lonely Street hits a bluesy melancholy stride. And then Aki takes the stage alone for Let Us Love, stripping it back to bare guitar and vocal. No band. No fuss. Just a man and a song. Pure.

But it’s the closer Just The Two Of Us that seals the deal, pure Bill, pure brilliance.

Shout-out too to the Jazz Bar team: the sound was pristine. Every instrument had space to breathe, every note found its place.

A masterclass in musicianship. A tribute show that felt entirely alive. And a reminder that when you’ve got soul, you don’t need spectacle. You just need a band like this.