Eminem | Brixton Academy, London

We all know that gangsta rap is synonymous with monstrously large egos, but at his Brixton show, it was a wonder that Eminem could fit all of his on one stage. Most rap artists go by at least one absurd name, but this one has three. To his mother - who recently took him to court over allegations on his album that she "does more drugs than I do" - he is known as Marshall Bruce Mathers III. To the hip-hop fraternity, he is Eminem or Slim Shady. The latter, he claims, is a mischievous parody of white trash culture.

Eminem has had middle America in a lather with his darkly comic sketches of drug-taking, rape and murder (tales in which Slim Shady is chief protagonist). Middle America claims he is a dangerous influence on his young fans.

Judging by his live performance, those are dubious sentiments. While it is possible that the bottle-blond rapper is suffering from a severe case of Tourette's syndrome, it is hard to be offended by his diatribe.

It's true that few emerged unscathed from his barbed rhymes. Even in between songs he insults fans and celebrities in equal measure: the crowd are "motherfuckers" because they don't do enough drugs; his description of teen queen Christina Aguilera, whom he recently offended by making her the subject of a sordid bedroom tale on his single "The Real Slim Shady", is unprintable. But there is not a trace of vitriol in any of these declarations - Eminem is simply a world-class wind-up merchant.

The only person to whom he affords respect throughout the evening is his patron, and the co-founder of the rap outfit NWA, Dr Dre, who joins him on stage for a handful of songs. If the fact that Dre got the bigger cheer rankled with the younger rapper, he didn't show it. They are a fearsome double act despite the fact that, next to that elder statesman of rap, Eminem often comes across as nothing more than a tenacious, unruly child.

With such personalities on stage, the music can often seem like an afterthought. On form, though, Eminem is as bold and brattish as the Beastie Boys in their License to Ill days. His vocals could certainly out-squeak the Beasties' MCA, while his rhymes prompt the kind of outrage vital to any self-respecting bad-boy rapper. His rallying signature tunes, "My Name Is" and "I'm Shady", present the rapper at his infectious best.

Eminem: callow, foul-mouthed and a riotous night out.