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Talk about weird. If anyone needed assurances after 808’s and Heartbreak that rap icon and recent Autotune-adopter Kanye West was keen on taking the road less travelled, this balmy Saturday night at Acer was it.

Up against stalwart support act Nas, the indomitable Mr West could well have faltered. However, he kept his wits about him – until set closer Love Lockdown at least. New York City veteran Nas delivered an awe-inspiring hour-long set, mesmerising a largely unaware audience with his ability to defy normal lung constrictions. Along with hire-a-band Mulatto, whose members gleefully head-banged their way across the stage, Nas delivered a stunning medley of Illmatic tracks.

The man deftly interweaved crowd-pleasers I Can and Hip Hop Is Dead with potentially more obscure choices. But the sheer force of the old hand and the stagecraft of his rowdy musical musketeers was enough to get an almost wholly Kanye-fied moshpit waving their hands from side to side. In a rare exhibition of solo talent (considering most rappers these days wheel out a posse to keep the crowd happy during drink breaks), Nas crafted a compelling, forceful sixty minutes such that even Ego-Man had a hard act to follow.

And yet follow he did – and in bombastic style true to his name. Kanye risked losing his audience early into the piece with Autotune-heavy new cuts Paranoid and Welcome To The Heartbreak. Slowly warming to the galactic sounds of the latest album, Kanye quickly switched it up to engage with the full spectrum of his musical career to date. Sonically impressive reinterpretations of recognised classics Stronger, Heard – œEm Say and a raw Diamonds of Sierra Leone perhaps best indicated West’s change of heart since his last trip out to our shores. Even club bangers like Gold Digger were given a more sombre, albeit still winning, treatment – reflecting the personal turmoil which underpins 808’s.

The problems arose when Kanye decided to annotate select tracks with private bylines. An initial diatribe sledging the media was spot on – enlivened with a bit of Britney sympathy – but two further extended lectures in and the emotional outpouring was losing relevance fast for jaded Yeezy fans. Combined with abrupt blackouts for dress-changes (definitely worthwhile as a sweat-soaked Kanye looked close to collapse a couple of times), the show’s halting temperament irritated. With every return to stage, however, West showed why he has become one of pop’s biggest personalities. Strobes bright enough to spark seizures, a tight riot-police-helmeted band and West’s natural energy were enough to give the impression of a gallivanting stage show, smoothing over the minor tirade-centred hiccups.

Until Love Lockdown. What was going through Kanye’s head as he stopped midway through the song only to start it again seconds later is anyone’s guess. Up to this point, West had demonstrated showmanship of the highest calibre, controlling every facet of his stage – from lights, to cameras to action itself – but never to noticeable degree. After stopping his devoted tribal drummers for a third time, sceptics were pouring up the aisles and out the doors, presumably having had their last straw sucked dry by West’s pretension.

The explanation: a wardrobe malfunction. “I was supposed to have a new outfit and they moved my shit to the back of the place,” Kanye lamented onstage. Although a few encouraging cheers went up, spurring him on through his fourth attempt, most had given up. Had he ended on a high with a spectacularly re-branded Touch The Sky, the crowd would have left certifiably buzzing. As it was, quiet murmurs and downcast eyes trudged out of the Arena, suitably aggravated by such unfulfilled potential.