Pity the security guard with the impudence to flash his torch on punters who aim their smartphones at the moptopped bundle of charisma and his four acolytes onstage.

A handful of songs into his set, Ryan Adams harangues said guard. Then, 45 minutes later, he and his band are ad-libbing a new number with the loose title Mr Stage Security Right, Adams repeatedly emphasising his regret at the tenor of his earlier reproach. To Adams's good-humoured annoyance, the guard is unmoved.

Before, between and after these events, the former poster boy of alt-country revels in the adulation of his congregation - a squealed "I love you, Ryan" is met with: "Text me later, I'm at work. My boss'll kill me" - as he reaches back into his post-Whiskeytown canon and delivers a masterclass in contemporary American rock. It's unarguably conservative but hugely persuasive too.

With his acoustic guitar, Adams exerts flawless control over mood and dynamics that finds its apex, if the reception is any measure, in New York, New York, dusted off for this show, he assures us. The closing Come Pick Me Up comes close too.

But it's with an electric guitar that Adams catches fire, the most invigorating cuts on show from his self-titled new album and 1984, the EP that preceded it, whose title hints at the songwriter's latest direction.

Among the highlights are the muggy ecstasy of Shadows, the sunburned highway rock of Kim and the swaggering Gimme Something Good, though the Husker Duisms of When The Summer Ends are a welcome shot of amphetamine.