Annie Clark, the bright-eyed, mop-topped 24-year-old Texan behind St Vincent, is used to collaboration. She has done time with the 40-legged psych-pop choir the Polyphonic Spree, toured with Sufjan Stevens, and a glance at the credits on her rather lovely debut album, Marry Me, tells of the dozen or more supporting players who helped make it. In contrast, tonight Clark takes to the stage alone with guitar, kick drum, keyboard and loop pedal on hand to recreate the lush, lucid prettiness of her recorded songs.

It's a tall order. She looks a little lost on the low, bare stage in this not terribly atmospheric anteroom, the whole of which is flooded by truly hideous purple and turquoise spotlights. Her voice sounds tremendous - a soft, dreamy coo that dips and peaks deftly and is unwaveringly note-perfect. Sadly, the backing doesn't always quite match up. Clark has her hands full operating three or more instruments at once, and a couple of wavers or misfires in setting up drum or guitar loops plays minor havoc with the arrangements early on, losing much of the easy fluidity of the record.

That's a shame, since it's that artful sonic tailoring and impressively off-the-map guitar playing that makes Marry Me interesting, more so perhaps than the songwriting itself. There's a fair bit of stylistic wanderlust going on, as she flits from Tori Amos-style balladry and jazzy chanteuse stuff right through to all-out art-rock weirdness. There are hooks to be found, but nothing desperately catchy, and not enough to wrench things back when the arrangements falter. Some fine moments do arise, but the truth is that St Vincent is crying out for a backing band.