For almost the entire length of R&B singer Frank Ocean's first UK show since 2011, the video screen behind him displays footage of a gold car proceeding at a steady pace through a featureless desert landscape. It's not quite an accurate visual metaphor for his performance but it's uncomfortably close. The unusually mixed crowd illustrates the breadth of Ocean's appeal, while the joy and accuracy with which they sing along demonstrates how deeply they love his hugely acclaimed album Channel Orange. It's the kind of record where you believe every note: there's not a single rote lyric or needlessly ostentatious vocal. His presence on recent albums by Kanye West and Jay-Z brought supernatural grace and palpable melancholy to otherwise busy-sounding records: a sense of private emotions quietly shared.
Stillness and introspection, however, are less persuasive qualities on stage. Nobody expects Ocean to perform the same shirt-removing, stage-diving antics as fellow breakthrough R&B star Miguel but he cuts an uncertain figure, rooted to the spot, head bowed over his microphone. Occasionally, he sits down. "I don't do much talking," he says bashfully, and when he does speak between songs, it's hard to decipher his mumbling. His black-suited six-man band is equally static and the humid atmosphere intensifies the hazy, heavy-limbed feel.
Sometimes overt showmanship can be a distraction from the songs — bass solos are often involved — but Ocean has the opposite problem. He hasn't yet worked out how to storyboard a setlist in order to create peaks and troughs. One midtempo song follows another and the Academy's unreliable sound muddies subtler tracks: Sierra Leone sounds like it's being played on a heat-damaged cassette tape.
The set takes flight when he goes to extremes. The 10-minute Pyramids is a giant jolt of drama, moving from euphoric rave riffs to eerie Twin Peaks R&B, while the hushed Bad Religion is a hold-your-breath moment. Late in the show, Ocean sings a verse from his early mixtape song Swim Good a cappella and his voice soars through the fuggy air with devastating purity. A handful of new songs sound promising, too.
Perhaps Ocean's shyness will fade as he becomes a more seasoned performer. Tonight, he never gives the impression he particularly wants to be on stage, nor has much idea of what to do while he's up there. His records enthral because they invite the listener to lean in, but a great performer also needs to reach out.
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