SARATHY KORWAR is relieved to be back in front of an audience. “It’s more fun than those livestreams,” he admits. “They’re terrible.”

More fun for the audience, too. Although it’s tempting to view Korwar as a band leader best suited to the recording studio, to see him on stage is to appreciate a different side to his complex, eclectic art which draws mainly on jazz and Indian classical music but also incorporates elements of hip-hop, electronic music and more.

The subtleties of Korwar’s politics come across that much clearer in a live setting and not just because on this occasion he has a “Free Palestine” message projected onto a speaker at the front. With the angry tones of vocalist Zia Ahmed in support, it’s possible to get a fuller insight into Korwar’s thoughts on belonging and disaffection, on resisting the temptation to fit people into boxes and being able to assert that “home is where the heart is.”

It’s enlightening to watch Korwar and his band really let loose when the chance presents itself, generating an exhilarating cacophony of noise that would probably be too messy for most of his recorded material.   

Outside the studio, it’s also easier to appreciate what a brilliant drummer Korwar is. Relaxed, stunningly fluid and natural, he’s fully in control of his craft.   

He and the amazingly talented keyboardist Al MacSween are the axis of the four-piece, while the two saxophonists, Chris Williams on alto and Tamar Osborne on baritone, parry back and forth across them.  

Ahmed, hands behind his back or clasped in front, walks on and off as required — a moody, challenging presence, not exactly uncomfortable in the spotlight but charismatically uneasy there nonetheless.  

His rendering of the excellent, sly lyrics of Bol, which he and Korwar co-wrote with Aditya Prakash, is a highlight of the night.

They’re a great team — emphasised by the collective wearing of specially made football shirts — and one that’s certainly worth seeing in the flesh.