Roddy Frame at The Sage Gateshead

Take How Men Are, that lovely single from that somewhat over-produced Aztec Camera album, Love (it was the 1980s, I suppose). Here it is exposed, fragile.

And Jump, his arch take on Van Halen's guitar-crunched classic. It's more softly spoken than sung, and the song's structure is pinned and mounted, like a butterfly, so that you can almost see through it. The way he intended when he first covered it years ago, I imagine, and worn with a large smile.

He stills looks like a schoolboy, with checked shirt and lovely personality, he feels too nice to be a rock star. Which is just as well, as he's not. His is a pop passion, and he's genuinely funny too.

He even gives Just Like The USA an airing, after an old charmer in the crowd tells Roddy he's his Christmas box come early.

They're good the Geordies, I'll give you that.

In return, there's a suite of songs from his Aztec Camera debut album: High Land, Hard Rain. The Boy Wonders is fine, Walk Out To Winter is wonderful and The Bugle Sounds Again is almighty.

There's some fine harmonica playing, The North Star, a magnificent Reason for Living - you see why Elvis Costello declared him one of the best songwriters he'd heard.

Amid such special songs, it'd seem churlish to demand my favourite, but my favourite is no simple song.

There was an elephant in that room last night, or there was until he nailed it with his first encore after opening up the set to requests (as if anyone would ask for anything else).

Oblivious is one of the finest tunes in the pop music tradition, and when the music gods handed out lyrics they didn't just give him: "I see you crying and I want to kill your friends" but "They call us lonely when we're really just alone".

I think I need say no more.