Sam Sparro, ABC, Glasgow

The great success of the Australian-American-English singer Sam Falson's music is that it warmly embraces some of the least fashionable forms of pop, yet it still works as the rather high camp product of a singular artist.

That Falson – nicknamed Sam Sparro, after an Australian cartoon character – spends much of his time on stage dressed in what looks like a white Babygro with a placard bearing his name around his neck is par for the course. This is probably the most sober outfit of the evening, and the tanned, chiselled and gay Falson's dance moves don't exactly repel attention.

A sense of vaguely sleazy tack is flirted with, but it never feels like he's exploiting his audience or himself. It's all cheeky fun, and the crowd, mainly gay men and stylish young women in the company of friends or boyfriends, seem well pleased with their night out.

Falson's worst choices seem to be entirely musical, with the odd clanger disrupting an otherwise buoyant set. "Too Many Questions" involves a high-voiced hollering of an exhortation to "take any action/ when it comes to our satisfaction", but sadly over a chugging seam of the nu-soul slap bass funk that was mined dry by the likes of the Style Council and Hue and Cry many years ago. His five-piece band get people moving, but they serve to distract from the icily impersonal electronic pop persona Falson has built for himself. Fortunately, his Prince-like falsetto breathes life into tracks like "Clingwrap" and "Sally" – although the former is preceded by a bizarre spoken introduction in what sounds like a helium-voiced effect.

His distinctive vocal comes into its own in the second half of the show, where the music is more in keeping with the processed format. When his sweetly resonant voice is placed alongside an irresistibly artificial mid-Nineties house sound, they blend in strangely comforting style. Even better, Falson at one point duets with one of his three backing singers, the talented Vula Malinga, who sang the lead part on Basement Jaxx's "Oh My Gosh".

It ends with the dancefloor-grabbing hit "Black and Gold" and an encore of Crystal Waters's "Gypsy Woman", performed in, respectively, a batwing-shouldered cape and a black Japanese tunic and white-rimmed glasses, perfectly capturing the multicoloured nature of the singer's personality and art.