LCD Soundsystem, Astoria, London

James Murphy doesn't just know a lot of music; he knows how to use it, too. As half of the production duo DFA, the New Jersey-born pop aficionado set the pulse for the punk-funk revival of 2002-3, mining the past and making it move for indie kids, music geeks and clubbers alike. And as the man who is LCD Soundsystem, he mixed arch-deconstructionist pop with very catchy, funny and funky dance-rock on his seminal satire of terminal know-alls, "Losing My Edge", and the hipster homage "Daft Punk Is Playing at My House".

LCD's just-released second album ups his ante to no small degree. Sound of Silver sees Murphy picking from pioneering pop - art-pop, post-punk, Krautrock, synth-rock - for dance-floor filler and variously wry, clever, poignant, political, postmodern and soulful electro-pop.

With his paunch, jeans, scruffy T-shirt and, on "Time to Get Away", vaguely panicky falsetto yelp, Murphy isn't anyone's idea of an obvious front man or singer. But he uses what he has well, essaying near-perfect Mark E Smith-isms on "Movement" and flavouring the satirical lyrics of "North American Scum" with wit and character.

There's no evidence of laptop tweakery on stage; instead, the beats are built in incremental layers from vintage synths, guitars, bass and percussion, with Murphy barking his lyrics, bashing at a cowbell and sticking his fingers in his ears - it's very, very loud - up front.

It takes three tracks for the diffuse elements of disco, art-pop and warm wit to coalesce, but when they do, on "Scum", the gig is in the bag. The self-reflexive but richly felt "All My Friends" relates the tale of a thirtysomething hipster's struggles to stay cool with heart-rush momentum, unfurling on a New Order-ish wash of liquid-ecstasy sound. The Bowie-with-beats art-dance of "Get Innocuous" prompts a sea of arms to reach out to Murphy, the self-designated "schlub" inheriting the dance-pop nation, crowd and band peaking in unison as a battery of beats closes the song. And on "Watch the Tapes", the floor is a sea of piston-pumping arms and heads tossed back to howl "Wa-hoo!" as one.

As the group punish every instrument on stage for the close of "Yeah", the boundaries between audience and band, disco and punk, postmodernism and pure pop, rave and self-referentiality are all but shredded in a utopian acid-house freak-out. The anticipated "Losing My Edge" isn't played, but nor should it be. Murphy's purchase on pop for the head, heart and feet has rarely seemed so keen.