Jim White @ Òran Mór, Glasgow, 19 Nov

"Make sure you catch the support act, they're really good", suggests our headliner in a voice both perky and drawling before his scheduled appearance at the Òran Mór. He's talking about Cicada Rhythm, born and raised in Georgia and friends with White due to some fortunate set-up the gods of Americana organised some years ago. After their set, they join Jim White on stage as his backing band. They arrange themselves around the self-proclaimed paternal White: they look great, like a sepia photograph in a Coen Brothers film about two generations of musicians: the real handsome family. The double bass doesn't look half bad, either.

The show features both Jim White's usual quirkiness and something more traditional: the band open with a flat, sincere country song called Playing Guitars that sounds pleasingly like They Might Be Giants' Particle Man. It's from White's latest album, which, mind you, is called Waffles, Triangles & Jesus. Nothing was going to remain straight-laced for very long, and the man whose past life included being a cab driver in New York and whose music is often tangled up in his own personal spiritual odyssey is soon telling between-song tales of his cabbing adventures and dealing with well-intentioned hecklers.

The songs jump hither and thither between albums: there's a revisiting of 2007's Transnormal Skiperoo and 2001's ace No Such Place, with a notably haunting version of that album's Corvair. Jim White is one of those performers who give shows a sense of communion: witnessing it in the Òran Mór, a former Kelvinside church, probably helps it along. He makes it fairly clear that he had tearaway tendencies in his younger days, but, like he says tonight between jangly, sincere and funny songs, he's trying to "make things more about we, we, we than me, me, me." If it ends up sounding as good as this, Jim, count us in.