Bill Ryder-Jones @ Maryhill Community Centre, Glasgow, 22 Sep

In a 2016 interview, Bill Ryder-Jones told a Liverpool music blog: “I’m not out to blow minds… I just carry on.” Tonight, he carries on with a new record on the horizon and a nasty but ably-battled cold in tow, delivering a scorching, moving and genuinely euphoric performance that leaves the minds of an appreciative Glasgow audience blown, re-blown and blown once again for good measure, modest intentions be damned.

Support arrives from Our Girl, whom Ryder-Jones (producer of their 2018 record Stranger Today) will later describe as his “favourite band in the world right now.” With concise, low-key garage anthems aplenty, the three-piece have no trouble at all in seizing the attention of those still filing into tonight’s slightly unorthodox venue. With a sparse light show and little to segregate punter from performer other than monitors and microphones, the Maryhill Community Centre has the feel of a grand practice space where airs and graces are abandoned in favour of great sound and a compellingly intimate live experience. Ryder-Jones, as you’d expect, thrives in an arena such as this. A hall, if you want to nitpick.

Bill Ryder-Jones and company shuffle onstage with minimal fuss before delving straight into tracks from 2015’s West Kirby County Primary. 'Dogs from downstairs started barking / Jill from next door is on nights / And she’ll be fucking fuming,' he sings on Catharine and Huskisson, showcasing the wry attention to detail that has charmed and disarmed listeners since he first established himself as a solo artist in 2011, three years after leaving The Coral. Daniel follows, as subtly heartbreaking as ever.

Noise from the bar threatens to engulf a solo rendition of Seabirds but Ryder-Jones is quick to put on the spot those inexplicably queueing for and cracking open £3.50 cans during one of the most tender moments of the set, where silence should be a given. Two new songs, Recover and There Are Worse Things I Could Do (featuring lines from Grease) stand out as some of the Merseyside songsmith’s finest work to date, while recent single Mither offers a sobering insight into a life burdened by ill health before building to a thunderous, Smashing Pumpkins-esque conclusion. Ryder-Jones’ voice sublimely exudes naked emotion all evening, be it sadness, scorn, longing or joy, and lines such as 'If you take the pills you might not get so ill / Let’s make it easier for you Bill' cut as deep as they should.

Completely undeterred by his sickness, Ryder-Jones is on peak form, cracking jokes and forging connections, even sharing a memory of lurking outside Syd Barrett’s house for several days over a decade ago, hoping to catch a glimpse of his hero. He did. With a return to Scotland planned for early next year, there are worse things you could do than delve into the work of a musician who will one day, if common sense prevails, enjoy the acclaim he deserves.