Of all the actors who have launched music careers, exactly why Jared Leto should be selling out arenas where so many others have failed is hard to pinpoint. The California complaint-rock trio he fronts, 30 Seconds to Mars, don't offer anything different from the genre's standard stew of issue-ridden lyrics and brawny emo riffs, while the reedy-voiced Leto is no great shakes as a singer. Granted, the former star of the TV series My So-Called Life is a good bit handsomer than pop rivals such as Russell Crowe, even with the blue hair he's currently sporting, and he has a masterly grasp of rock-star vernacular (his favourite word begins with F, and he uses it throughout this gig). But even that doesn't quite explain what made 16,000 hyped-up teenagers trek through the snow to see him.

Perhaps it's Leto's knack for getting fans involved: "Jump! Jump!" he exhorts, till everyone in the place does. He's also clever enough to single fans out for special mention: "The guy with the pompadour? He's got worse hair than me!" is typical badinage. Getting into the middle of the crowd with an acoustic guitar is another crafty move – a cover of Lady Gaga's Bad Romance at this point is surprisingly nuanced.

It's this kind of thing, plus a screening of the new bondage-and-nudity video Hurricane (obligingly banned by MTV), that give the show its modicum of piquancy. It's certainly not the sweated-out songs from their last two albums, which only make an impression when the lyrics are especially self-flagellating (such as Night of the Hunter's "Blessed by a bitch from a bastard seed/ Pleasure to meet you but better to bleed"), or there's a towering chorus to sing along to, as on the hit The Kill. Otherwise, a formulaic and derivative show.