Perfectly imperfect: Evan Dando, at Islington Assembly Hall, reviewed

‘Can I have a photo with you, please?’ It’s the most embarrassing question you can ask of someone you’re interviewing. But I had to. Not only because Evan Dando is one of my favourite songwriters. But also – vainly – because years of on-off drug addiction (mostly on) mean Dando is no longer quite the beautiful young man he was when he became famous in the early 1990s. Back then, I’d have looked like a troll standing next to him. Now, not so much.

It was a night of beautiful imperfection – the kind that feels truer than a thousand arena shows

He still, however, looks better than he has any right to, and in the evening he proved that he sounded better than I had dared to hope. Better still, he was fully present – not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Back when the Lemonheads were the hunks of alternative rock, Dando’s progressively deepening problems resulted in him playing some of the worst shows I’ve ever seen – desultory to the point of insulting.

I was slightly anxious before the show. It was just him and an acoustic guitar and, though he’s been sober for two years, without a band to provide a bit of oomph and cover for any vagaries in Dando’s delivery, it might have been a high-wire act. That said, I would be lying if I told you it was perfect. Dando’s vocal cords have clearly been affected by the years of what has gone into his lungs. His voice used to be bruised, sad and lazy, but with a toffee-ish depth. Now it’s thinner, a little whispery, occasionally cracking. But it was good enough; good enough for the songs and good enough to restore our oft-tested faith in him.