You would think Malcolm Middleton, quiet and earnest guitarist of Falkirk's finest angst peddlers Arab Strap, would be about as likely to break into laughter during a gig as Coldplay to rip into Ace of Spades. But when he finally does, thanks to forgotten lyrics and a moment's panic, it is less a revelation and more an essential part of a new guise.
Middleton has come out of the shadows warily. Having adopted the alter ego (though not the costume) of Crappo the Clown, he has used that figure of fun and desperation to front his tear-drenched, beer-soaked songs, pre-empting any derisive comments by calling himself rubbish before anyone else has a chance. Not that he needed to worry. Middleton's debut album, the wonderfully named 5:14 Fluoxytine Seagull Alcohol John Nicotine, is full of black humour and heart-stopping truths, domestic disputes and personal hang-ups. He is Tony Hancock with Graham Coxon's awkwardness and George Harrison's sensitivity.
Middleton's skill lies in winning our sympathy while he subtly exposes our own insecurities. Alone on stage, with only his acoustic guitar to lean on, he sits with his eyes closed, his body rigid. Though the fluid, joyous notes of Wake Up has him strumming hard, the image he projects is one of calm concentration. His voice is full of self-loathing and weary acceptance as the crowd falls silent. "When I fuck up, I fuck up so good," he sings, before poetic licence becomes reality and the song dissolves in disarray. "I'll just fuck up the end of that," he sighs.
Stripped of adornment, the appeal of the songs lies in their honesty. Middleton is nothing if not genuine. In Tear Down, a new lament for lost love sung in a low whisper, the absurdity and embarrassment of admitting that someone has left you is achingly conveyed. The Loneliest Night of My Life Come Calling, with its Celtic undertones and vigorous rhythm, captures the madness of misery.
In relinquishing the claustrophobia that marks Arab Strap's work, while hanging on to the band's jaded vision, Middleton has won a new lease of life. He is still grappling with his demons, caressing and clinging to the hesitant, lullaby melody of Devil and the Angel, his head hung low. But his doubts are wrapped in a battered, shining beauty.
· At the Barfly, Glasgow, tonight. Box office: 0141-204 5700.
