Odelay! The undisputed master of rock/funk/hip-hop/blues has come to spellbind us with his magical sonic sound-dust. And – to quote well-known indie authority, John Motson – my word, he doesn’t half deliver the goods.
The show kicks off with Monsieur Hansen and cohorts grooving their way through an extended percussive jam (complete with Beck’s unique style of improvised scat-singing), which serves as an ideal appetiser for tonight’s menu: fun, mischief, surprises and – the coup de grace – rhythms that are almost physically impossible not to dance to.
‘Devil’s Haircut’, an abbreviated ‘Beercan’ (which morphs into the jerky robo-funk workout of ‘Hell Yes’ without missing a beat) and ‘Loser’ (which sees Beck’s besuited accomplice throwing eye-catching moves stage-right) are rapturously received early on.
But the show really catches fire with the awesome ‘Missing’. Perhaps the finest track on the excellent Guero, its haunting acoustic rhythms and general mood of mournful contemplation perfectly complement the evening’s more rioutous moments, and – crucially – serve as the perfect riposte to those critics who, somewhat mystifyingly, accuse Beck of being all style and no heart.
Shortly thereafter, Beck performs a solo acoustic set, which contains a trio of songs that are guaranteed to rank among my live highlights of 2005 come the end of the year. First up is a tender rendition of Daniel Johnson’s ‘True Love Will Find You In The End’, followed by a stunning take on ‘Debra’ from Midnite Vultures that is so charming, hilarious (“I said lady, step inside my Hyundai”), amorous and true that one can’t help but smile at the sheer joyful abandon of it all. As if that wasn’t enough, he rounds off the slot with a wild salsa groove, the rhythm of which comes courtesy of the cutlery on the dining table Beck’s band have been seated at (honestly) for the past fifteen minutes.
Uproarious versions of ‘Where It’s At’ and ‘E-Pro’ bring us up to the encore, for which the band return dressed in day-glo, space-age Tron-style costumes. Chaos reigns during the glorious ode to LA street-life that is ‘Que Onda Guero’, before a gonzo xylophone symphony brings the evening to a suitably ramshackle conclusion.
He might never again scale the stratospheric, zeitgeist-defining heights of Mellow Gold and Odelay, but on this evidence, Beck remains one of the finest live performers of his generation.

Photograph by Liam Sweeney