On the flip sideman

Barry Adamson was bemused to arrive at his recent invite-only promotional gig and find his fans bearing old band photos, rare 45s and even vintage-era NME articles. The show, in the intimate courtyard of St Kilda's Pure Pop Records, was a strange night for the former Magazine, Visage, Birthday Party and Bad Seeds bassist.

Performing alone out front, with accompaniment only from pre-recorded backing tracks on his laptop, Adamson could almost reach out and touch the 50-odd punters crammed into the tiny courtyard. Still, stints in Nick Cave's Bad Seeds (with whom he was a founding member) and Cave's primal, ferocious Birthday Party, would undoubtedly have prepared him for challenging situations, and Adamson's deft charisma and style shone through.

The gig done with, he was then shuffled ignominiously into the back of a VW Kombi van to field questions from various journalists.

Adamson laughs about it now, but admits the gig was bizarre.

"Well, I enjoy a challenge," he laughs, "but I was quite nervous. But I think that's a good way to break yourself in. And then people were coming up to me and saying, 'I was at that gig then' or 'I was around for the Bad Seeds', so you kind of get a sense of your own life and history through them."

The 50-year-old former Mancunian's 30-year journey has taken him from a specialist sideman to ex-Buzzcocks singer Howard Devoto's band Magazine in the late '70s and early '80s, synth-pop band Visage and Nick Cave in the '80s, to a solo artist, bandleader, arranger and singer.

In 1989, Adamson's debut album Moss Side Story saw him take up the cinematic-soul style that he is renowned for. His music is often likened to a soundtrack to an imaginary movie, blending noir-ish jazz, Bacharach-flavoured ballads, dark trip-hop, Bond-like orchestral pieces and widescreen spy-funk. His narrative lyrics are often ambiguous, sometimes sinister and always filmic, with double entendres, femmes fatales and urban underbellies dabbling in murder, lust, greed and envy.

Jarvis Cocker, ex-Associates singer Billy MacKenzie and Nick Cave had fronted songs on his brilliant breakthrough 1996 album, Oedipus Schmoedipus, but Adamson finally broke out as a singer in his own right on 1998's dark, soulful As Above, So Below. He has since proved himself a fine vocalist, with a playful cabaret croon and wicked lounge lizard twist.

"Well, envy in its proper form is inspiring and encouraging," he says slyly. "Just thinking, 'I could so that'. I think that's what happened. I watched those guys do their thing and I made that decision to not let other people be my mouthpiece any more. And yeah, it was a bit like the sideman says goodbye."

In 2006, his Stranger on the Sofa LP saw him launch his own record label, Central Control, after 22 years with Mute Records.

"I didn't want someone knocking on my door and saying, 'It's time to go, because you don't sell enough records'," says Adamson of his newly acquired independence. "I certainly knew that this was a chance. I knew I wasn't Moby, I wasn't Goldfrapp and I wasn't Nick Cave, so question marks were already being thrown up about the future. And I've got too much dignity for some guy in a suit to walk in and say, 'See you later'."

And yet his ninth solo album, Back to the Cat, is his most accessible yet, with its rich orchestral pop flavours (Spend a Little Time), breezy '60s swingers (Straight 'Til Sunrise) , feel-good gospel (Civilization), smooth soul (Walk on Fire) and cat burglar jazz (Beaten Side of Town).

"Yeah, there's something different about it," he says of Back to the Cat. "I don't know quite what it is, but it's attracting a whole different vibe. I saw it when I played on RocKwiz. People who have never even heard my stuff were like, 'Yeah, I get something about this'. Oedipus Schmoedipus was going in the right direction, but then I flipped it back after that, which I tend to do, but that was opening that door, I think."

Barry Adamson plays at the Corner Hotel, Richmond, on Thursday.