Patrick Wolf, The Cockpit Leeds, 27th October

Patrick Wolf appears to be experiencing a streak of bad luck. Not only is support act Cocknbullkid indisposed tonight due to illness, but halfway through his set Wolf finds himself in a genuine “Accident & Emergency” situation when he is forced to bring the lights up to alert the crowd to the collapse of an audience member. Although slightly flustered, Wolf adapts well, taking the chance to launch into a Q and A session with occasionally overzealous fans (star question: “Do you remember my friend Ian?”) before resuming a startling set.

This bad luck seems to be a temporary slip. The South London multi-instrumentalist’s latest album Lupercalia is a shamelessly romantic tribute to his partner, a love bombing of atomic proportions that would border on nauseating if it wasn’t a near perfect pop record. Wolf himself is a noticeably calmer stage presence. The last time I saw him at The Cockpit three years ago he climbed the lighting rig clad only in a loincloth. Tonight he remains fantastically charismatic but no longer seems to need the armour of the libertine persona, content to settle for some slightly halfhearted posing and a brief foray into the audience where he is briefly detained by Ian and the gang. Mostly Wolf seems keen just to play, and his spectacular voice, married to superb musicianship, is more than enough. I barely miss the loincloth at all. Honest.

Not that Wolf has given up the theatrics entirely- no fear, he hasn’t turned into Laura Marling overnight. Although he enters initially clad in red blazer and cravat, the striking sometime model is not averse to a casual strip tease, and throughout the show we are treated to a sartorial kaleidoscope that include seventies style paisley and a shirt embellished with a gigantic stuffed bird on one shoulder. The slight but lovely “Moon Song”, accompanied by violin and bass clarinet, is an unexpectedly low key opener, closely followed by crowd pleasing singles from Lupercalia. “Time of My Life” and “House” are brilliantly constructed pop gems, but although they boast melodies robust enough to both survive a nuclear holocaust and immediately begin procreating in the aftermath, stripped back renditions focused mainly on woodwind and strings lack a little of the record’s dazzling momentum. However, on slower tracks this subtler aesthetic pays off. A ravishing rendition of “Future” lead by a mountain dulcimer and featuring a nod to Joni Mitchell’s “All I Want” is a particular standout, as is the dark, seductive “Damaris”, a rare nod to Bachelor that captivates the crowd.

As the night progresses Wolf hits his stride and older tracks such as the monolithic “Bloodbeat” (“my big hit in Portugal and Spain apparently”) and electropop juggernaut “Accident & Emergency” retain the feverish intensity that has always been a trademark. Strutting and sounding like Bowie and Bjork having a domestic, Wolf’s extended set manages to pay tribute to both old and new, closing with the anthemic “Together” before delivering an irresistible double whammy encore featuring frenetic indie hit “Magic Position” and the unabashedly retro “The City”, complete with sleazy 80s sax.

At one point, visibly thrilled by an enthusiastic reception, Wolf reminds us that some of these tracks are over a decade old. The prodigal teenager who hung out with drag queens and posed on his first album cover dressed as a Victorian school boy has evolved into an old pro, well deserving of his growing status as a hipster National Treasure. Maybe don’t hold your breath for a knighthood though, although I’ll admit that the idea of Wolf comparing sceptres with the queen in full lederhosen and a cape is intoxicating.