It's the revenge of the nerd. When the small, shaven-headed figure raises his arms to acknowledge the adoring crowd, there is a definite feeling of triumph. After working away for years in relative obscurity, the Pee-Wee Herman of techno is getting his own back - and then some.

If Moby ever had reservations about hitting the big time, you would never guess it from his Astoria performance. He jogs on stage and lunges straight into the guitar chords of the punchy Extreme Ways. Then he charges about like a child on a sugar high for the entire show, which is on a scale suited to the arenas with which he is now so familiar. Nine musicians - including a turntablist, two violinists and a cellist - deliver a frantic busy performance that involves much swapping of instruments. Flanking a huge drum kit are two ramps, which give the star a chance to dash up and down some more and the bass player a place to strike her rock-chick poses. More is more, apparently, in Moby's book.

Despite his house and techno background and his self-conscious nods to hip hop and punk, tonight Moby relies on four-square rock dynamics that do his material few favours. Too many tunes have their spare beauty bludgeoned by thundering, regulation drumming. The gloriously soulful Another Woman and the down-home funk of Natural Blues are overwhelmed by beats so pedestrian they almost need paving stones. A cover of the Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop is an ill-advised flashing of Moby's punk credentials. However, it's not all bad: the blues-soaked In This World gets some inspired scratch treatment from DJ RJ, and the buzzing We Are All Made of Stars still sounds like the perfect pop song.

The crowd are no more interested in restraint than the star, and they go wild for Moby, offering gifts (boxes of tea, Y-fronts, a T-shirt), clapping along and generally making like it's 4am in a superclub rather than 9pm in a dingy rock bastion. "Is everybody having a nice time?" enquires Moby at one point. The answer seems to be a resounding yes.