David Gray @ Camden Roundhouse, November 14

Musicians have to battle through all sorts of adversity to forge careers in the music industry. Music execs with their fingers on the red button if album sales falter, PRs trying to morph you into the new Robbie Williams, a music press ready to declare you dead in the water if you fail to hop aboard the latest 'scene'. But maybe trickier and more painful than all of the above is trying to capture the attention of a hall filled with drunkards, fiddling with their blackberries and camera phones and more intent in downing pints of Kronenberg and telephoning their mate Dave than observing anything on the stage. So it is perhaps a testament to the stage presence and musicianship of David Gray that he is able to transform such an audience into a legion of quivering sycophants within the first 15 seconds of his set opener 'Shine'. With a 'Greatest Hits' album to promote and an audience willing to holler back every lyric, there's an almost cathartic feeling about his final night of residency at the Roundhouse.

Ruarri Joseph was given the customary frosty reception gifted to support acts at such events as this, and despite his charming banter with the front rows and his mixture of cheery Cornish vocals and lilting melodies, he can't drag the suits away from their iPhones and vitally important conversations about David Cameron's latest speech on pensions for long enough to cause too much of a flutter. It's a shame because his stripped-back, earnest style is refreshing and rather than grunting his way through the set like Messrs Blunt and Morrison, his voice glistens like it's been dipped in extra-sticky treacle. Of particular note was his run through 'Tales of Grime and Grit' - without any instruments. Stood alone on the stage he boomed out the vocals with the confidence of an platinum album superstar and displayed more X Factor than anything Simon Cowell has ever had his grubby mitts on.

Following Joseph's battling performance, enter stage right, Mr Gray. Suited and booted, he ambles on with nothing but an acoustic to do battle with. He tells the crowd that he only just made the gig because he was stuck doing promo work in Edinburgh earlier in the day. Yet Gray shows no sign of train-lag or weariness as he powers through the more obscure but tender moments from his back catalogue. Whether it's on the piano for 'Ain't No Love' from his underrated 2005 LP Life In Slow Motion or with a guitar in his hand on 'Long Distance Call' he captivates the crowd with his rasping vocal style and understated, wistful lyrics. When he wheels out 'Babylon' only four songs into his set, there's a brief fear that he may have peaked too early, but as he opens up into the chorus, nobody really cares. He could play the song 16 times in a row and nobody in the venue would be demanding their money back. Stripped of its slightly glitchy studio computer production and with enough time elapsing since it was bled dry by Jo Whiley and her Radio 1 cronies, it now sound like the classic pop hit it always was.

Any fears that he may slump into a regulation mid-set lull are alleviated when he returns with a full band for a chest-beating run through of his latest single 'You're The World To Me'. He follows it up with tender, tension-cracking versions of 'This Year's Love' and 'Life In Slow Motion', aggressive, pounding psychedelia on 'Nightblindness' and his finest single since White Ladder, 'Hospital Food'. James Blunt would sell his right arm for a set-closer as juicy as the raucous 'Please Forgive Me', and he'd probably need to go and trade back his soul from the devil to create anything as warm-hearted and emotionally-jerking as 'The Other Side'. Gray shows tonight that he is the sort of artist deserving of a 'Greatest Hits' album. He's come along way since his 1993 debut A Century Ends hit number 144 in the UK album chart and his fizzing energy on the stage indicates he might just be around for another 14 years. While his lack of glamour and unassuming personality means he will never be a superstar to match the Beyoncés or Kylies of this world, the little man with a wobbly head won't be disappearing from the musical landscape any time soon.