Write off former pop idols at your peril. A comeback via reality TV is now a distinct possibility, given the recent renewed interest in Mark Owen and Peter Andre, and now Matt Goss.The onetime Bros glamour-pup must be thanking his stars for his recent stint on Gordon Ramsay's Hell's Kitchen. Though his fresh start finds him trailed by fellow chef Abi Titmuss, whose arrival sends paparazzi into a mild frenzy, it's brought him more attention than he's had in years. With a new album to promote, he needs as much as he can get.

For some fans, of course, Gossmania never went away. The place is stuffed with what used to be known as Brosettes, who are now late-twentysomethings, some with husbands reluctantly in tow. The first sight of their man, stomping through a hard-nut version of Stevie Wonder's Superstition, flicks a primal switch. Throat-lacerating screams ripple up to the balcony, and suddenly it's 1988, and this be-hatted character surrounded by LA session musicians is the 20-year-old sex-dude again. For many, the illusion seems to last all evening. Goss can barely speak between numbers for piteous wails, and someone even throws her knickers. He laughs, but Tom Jones would probably tell him to enjoy it while he can.

The surprise is that, when audible, he's an expressive pop-soul singer who demands to be judged on his merits. These are many: a preview of his album, Early Side of Later, is pleasingly funked up by the raspy-sweet voice he's acquired in his 30s. It's intimate and insinuating on Fly, steeped in slow-burning regret on Goodbye. Their reflectiveness could reel in the crowd who keep George Michael in business.

Goss also has his moments of madness - he metals up a version of Bros's When Will I Be Famous? beyond recognition. He encores with another 1980s relic, I Owe You Nothing, subjecting it to an equally jolting R&B scouring. Half an hour after the show ends, Titmuss replicas are still hanging around the stage door. Given a few breaks, Goss could be on to a whole new - and deserved - lease of life.