The last time Jonathan Richman played this venue, his "rider" consisted of only a glass into which to pour his own water, and he spent the afternoon telling drinkers about his other job, installing pizza ovens. This is typical of the Massachusetts cult hero who left behind his seminal band the Modern Lovers (and a smash hit with Roadrunner in 1977) to create 20-odd albums about ice-creams, vampire girls and Martians.

One of pop's truly idiosyncratic geniuses, the 60-year-old Richman's touchingly childlike worldview seems inseparable from his personal eccentricities. Within the first few minutes, he has eulogised a beauty who was "raw and wild", addressed the audience in French, gurned towards the front rows to accompany his acoustic guitar solos, and banged some bells while dancing like a teapot. "You're not supposed to watch, you're supposed to do stuff like this yourself," he giggles, interspersing the tomfoolery with revealing, thought-provoking lyrical gems, such as "to win in love is to surrender".

Backed by longtime drummer Tommy Larkins, perhaps even Richman doesn't know what's coming next. 1978's instrumental Egyptian Reggae is played with such enthusiasm he could have written it yesterday. He sings in Italian and Arabic, croons like David Byrne, calls himself "old Uncle Jonathan" and enjoys a bash at limbo dancing.

Old World cleverly reconfigures an old Modern Lovers song to eventually reject nostalgia. The brilliant new song Bohemia, a self-mocking and revealing account of his Velvet Underground-inspired epiphany ("My parents didn't laugh at my pretentious artwork, they knew I had to start somewhere"), starts a singsong.

"Just one more," he offers, clearly humbled by the cheering. Then, three minutes later, "OK, just one more!"