First things first. The Academy isn't the ideal venue for Antony Hegarty and his band. It's a great place to see a banging rock and roll show, but tonight is about as far from the MC5 as you can get. You can pretty much tell that from the moment you walk through the front door and security inform you that this is a no smoking event (this being Glasgow, right enough, that's admirably ignored by a large section of the punters in the bar).

It's also standing room only, and it's a bit strange to be crushed into any available vantage point straining to see what is essentially a cabaret act. In fact, straining to hear as well, as the PA has been turned down so low as to render some of the quieter parts almost inaudible. My progressive deafness may have something to do with that, though. And of course that only means that the ageing, post Mercury contingent spend most of the first half of the gig shooshing - which is actually more annoying than the people talking in the first place. Hopefully next time he's here it'll be in a more suitable venue.

A rare moment of mayhem erupts when some young buck who had obviously had too much E with his vodka careers head first through the crowd and clatters semi-conscious into the stairs at my feet. Fortunately his girlfriend was there to rescue him, but it was enjoyable to see the looks of disgust on some of the more arts and crafts contingent none the less.

But the crowd is admirably mixed, and the atmosphere one of a kind of united front against the tyranny of all the identikit bands and fans who mop up the charts year after year after year. Gay, straight, miserable, bizarre and just plain obstinate have all turned up to see the new champion of outsider pop. And charmingly unpretentious he is too. In between songs he gently banters with the audience and appears to genuinely be having a great time.

There are a lot of comparisons with Nina Simone out there - which are probably accurate - but I can't help being reminded of Lady Day. That sorrowful voice in the night with such a childish weakness and beauty.

And as the gig goes on, the crowd become more and more enraptured. Apart from his own material he includes a few obscure covers (‘Moondog’ anyone?), but the main appreciation is reserved for ‘I Am a Bird Now’, which is covered in - I think - it's entirety.

'Hope There's Someone' obviously stands out - but really the whole show, much like the album, segues together into a single, resonant piece of emotion. These are not anthems, just small charms of hope against the dying of the light. Special mention must, though, go to 'You Are My Sister' which sounds just as beautiful solo as the duet with the sadly absent Boy George.

By the end? The world seems a slightly warmer place to be. And the cheers are louder than anything else on the night. I just hope that young guy managed to get a taxi.

Stuart Blackwood is 30 (odd), was born in Newarthill and lives in Glasgow. He supports Motherwell FC, has an MA in Economics and Philosophy and likes William Bell (the singer), Bukowski & Fante, Eric Arthur Blair, Negativeland, Eric Hobsbawm, politics, philosophy and ambiguity. He dislikes Alan Bloom and Francis Fukuyama, U2, categorization and Violence.

© 2006 Laura Hird All rights reserved.