Joseph Arthur

CABARET VOLTAIRE, EDINBURGH

GOOD singer-songwriters, it seems, grow on trees. Armed with an acoustic guitar, a distinctive voice and a nice sense of melody, many have a way of making you stop and listen. Back in the day, articulate songwriters such as Tim Buckley, Nick Drake and Arlo Guthrie led the way despite never reaching the summit of pop's pantheon. Today, however, the number of albums being released by solo artists (usually by small independent record labels) is staggering.

The majority of them - Ray Lamontagne, James Blunt, Nick Harper for example - are very good. Even former grunge musicians are going acoustic in order to rebuild their songwriting credibility.

Unfortunately these troubadours, who fulfil that never-ending need humans have of hearing about everyday life in a song, are often denied TV exposure. Therefore catching a glimpse of these famous unknowns is slim. And in a packed-out Cabaret Voltaire, sneaking a peek at Joseph Arthur, another footnote in fine singer-songwriters, was also tricky.

Under the tutelage of Peter Gabriel, Arthur is a mixed bag: bedraggled, bearded and bespectacled, his sonic trial-runs echo the likes of Beck whereas his lyrical experimentations draw on David Bowie and, to a degree, Johnny Cash. His themes about death, religion and despair - though de rigueur for singer-songwriters - lead you down roads most other songwriters prefer to avoid; he also likes to splatter a 6ft-high canvas behind him with various types of paint as he performs. Pretentious? Possibly.

Arthur, from Akron, Ohio, is also a master of the one-man band. Once upon a time songwriters would wear cymbals on their knees, a big bass drum on their back and a harmonica strapped around their neck. Now it's all vocal-fx harmonisers, sequencers and songs built up via the use of foot-controlled samplers. You could say Arthur's music lacks the human touch, but songs such as Favourite Girl, Echo Park and Devil's Broom were strong and arresting, forcing you to listen when normally you might look away.

By the end of a short, admirable set, Arthur's painting looked like a double-headed caterpillar in suspended animation. Maybe it represented his constant sense of opposing forces in life. Or perhaps it could have been a reflection of his multi-faceted performance.

No matter which way you look at it, though, this songwriter - like his live show - is one to be admired rather than loved.