It's hard not to worry when sidemen - which is essentially, if unjustifiably, the position Archer Prewitt holds in his other band, the Sea and Cake - thrust themselves before a microphone. Is it hubris that drives them? The pent-up frustration of watching another hog the spotlight? In Prewitt's case, neither. Listening to his debut solo album, 2002's Three, the only thing you could criticise him for was not striking out sooner. The songwriting was warm, elegant, mature - everything you could want from a record.

It's mostly from the equally assured follow-up, Wilderness, that Prewitt plays tonight. It's his first gig in the UK with his band in tow - which proves to be a mixed blessing. On the positive side, you get to hear Mark Greenberg's unfettered bass lines, and appreciate the effortlessness with which every shift in pace is executed. Most blissful of these transitions is the one that sees Cheap Rhyme build from the simplest of guitar lines to a barrage of chords and rollicking drums from which Dave Max Crawford's trumpet emerges as dazzlingly as the sun during a thunderstorm.

On the down side, though, is the niggling doubt that Prewitt's lyrics are best served by these forceful settings. His songs examine love and, more especially, its uncertainties and disappointments with an attention to detail that is mesmerising. There is a hypnotic quality about his performance, too: his soft vocal lines unfurl like ribbons, swirl in the air, and before you know it you're ensnared, convinced he's singing to you alone. You want every word to be distinct; instead, whole verses are lost beneath pounding drums and aggressive waves of psychedelic synth chords. But watching Prewitt's body jolt with excitement as another rock chord comes powering from his amp, you know deep down it would be mean to deny him this pleasure.