The charmed life of the singer-songwriter has gone through a sticky patch of late. Following a rash of would-be acoustic legends, the respect accorded one man and his guitar is waning. Wisely, Martin Craft labours under a name that sounds like a band - albeit some 1980s techno outfit - and stands between two achingly cool, retro-styled backing singers, Tree Carr and Maya Lubinski, who give his lush folk the phwoar factor.

Craft is an intense presence, as at odds with his accomplices' studied demeanour as his bitter sentiments are with the Bacharach-hued pop and easy exotica of his songs. But the glamour and irony goes unnoticed by the crowd. Easing into Silver & Fire, the lead track from his debut album, Craft hits a wall of non-stop chatter. It does not help that anyone whose interest is piqued by the gentle combination of recorder, glockenspiel and Craft's world-weary vocals can barely hear anything over the rushing tide of bass guitar and rolling drums.

Still, Craft plays on, allowing the heiress-turned-art-school-waster of Snowbird to become another victim of indifference. But this is a man used to disappointment. Having spent his teenage years in psychedelic band Sidewinder back home in Australia, Craft moved to London and released I Can See It All Tonight in 2004. After instant acclaim came a run of bad luck, culminating in his being electrocuted while recording in his bedroom.

But even Craft's patience has a limit. Though the two-pronged attack of his version of the Cult's She Sells Sanctuary and the subtle disco of You Are the Music finally ignites some passion in onlookers, his encore, the delicate Dragonfly, comes with a warning: "Those of you who want to have a chat to the person next to you, out now." The man and the music deserve better.