Seasick Steve, Royal Albert Hall, London

Hobo at the Albert Hall – it sounds like something Ealing Studios might have filmed, with rail-ridin' hobo Seasick Steve getting into comical scrapes before somehow finagling his way on to that hallowed stage. As the final bars of his signature tune "Dog House Boogie" reach a euphoric climax, the camera irises in on Steve's face as he offers up a cheeky wink of victory and mutters his cheery motto: "It's all gooood!"

And that's not far from the truth. The way the Great British Public have taken Seasick Steve to their hearts since his first appearance on Jools Holland's Hootenanny shows the same affection for the underdog that underpins the great Ealing comedies. As he ambles onstage, bottlenecked finger coaxing the beguiling melody of "Amazing Grace" from his battered guitar, Steve's greeted like a conquering anti-hero. It's clear that his dues-paying, combined with his modesty, his storytelling charm and his dedication to his craft, have struck a sizeable chord among us Brits.

On the third verse of "Amazing Grace", when Steve adds his gnarled baritone to the gospel tones of his female backing vocalists, the song's application to his own life really resonates: none are more wretched than the homeless, and few of those lost souls have been found quite as redemptively as Steve. His hobo life runs like an artery through his songs, evoked through lines like, "That's the thing about living on the street; it ain't too fancy, but it sure is cheap", and in the title track of his new album, I Started Out With Nothin', And I Still Got Most Of It Left. He always takes things on the chin.

Accompanied by the extraordinarily animated (and brilliant) drummer Dan Magnusson, two backing singers and a string of washboard-scraping, gourd-shaking, spoon-rattling, tub-thumping percussionists – among them his son – Steve demonstrates the variety of styles and sounds contained within his basic one-man blues-band format.

He's an engaging showman, clam-bering among the audience, vainly trying to phone his friend Sherman in Mississippi, and light-heartedly brandishing a baseball bat when things get a bit rowdy. "Anybody gettin' bored by this?" he asks, and a small voice cries "Yes!" "If that boy that said 'yes' want to come up on stage..." Steve says darkly – and when the boy, teenage at best, actually strides forth, he receives a warm hug. "That's one brave boy," Steve says. He can recognise a fellow free spirit.