A knack for undemanding yet emotionally satisfying pop songs with a slight country lilt has built a decent second career for Bob Evans, aka Kevin Mitchell. His albums waltz by at a gentle clop, never tearing it up but offering a sprinkle of variety to maintain interest for those who might find a man alone with his acoustic guitar not quite enveloping enough. In a live setting, that sound is given a little more muscle, and the celebratory nature of the Evans show is kept at a consistently merry pitch by the bottle of wine he happily swigs in between songs.

Punctual arrivals for the Adelaide leg of Evans’ tour promoting his third album Goodnight Bull Creek, the penultimate gig before the entourage wraps up in Perth, were treated first to a brief set by locals Aviator Lane, then a raucous, yarn spinning and joke cracking set by ebullient Canadian – via San Diego – singer songwriter Steve Poltz. True, some of his stories have been often told, particularly the one about how via Mexican drug runners, yellow bikinis and an AK-47 assault rifle he came to co-write Jewel’s international chart-topping single You Were Meant For Me, but the energy Poltz brings to the stage is a tonic. In short, he is a riot. He spices up his sound by plugging an iPod into the Gov’s speakers, while also adding plenty of physicality to what is more a one-man stage act than a curtain-raising collection of songs.

Warmed up expertly by Poltz, the crowd is in a welcoming mood for Evans, as he sets out on a generously fleshed out performance that starts with Someone So Much, the opening track and lead single from the new album. Still relying heavily on Suburban Songbook, which like The Empire Strikes Back or The Godfather Part II is the second and best work of a trilogy, Evans progressed enjoyably through a catalogue notable for its depth if not variety. Behind him a crack band, composed of Malcolm Clark (Sleepy Jackson), Hugh Jennings (End of Fashion, Bob Evans), Ben Witt (The Chemist) and Louis Macklin (67 Special), enjoyed their relaxed grooves and occasionally spells in the limelight. Macklin’s keys were likably reminiscent of Al Kooper, while 20-year-old Witt is a guitarist going places.

There is plenty of room for dialogue at a show relaxed as this, and one of the tour’s party pieces has been Evans inviting a cute young thing on stage – Adelaide’s was an awestruck girl by the name of Clara – to be serenaded by the Bossa Nova facsimile Power Of Speech. One of the night’s running themes was the presence of the Pussycat Dolls and Lady Gaga across the road at the Adelaide Entertainment Centre, a schedule clash that Evans noted with plenty of cheek and even more resultant laughter. There was some pride from Evans in the fact that his lot in music is to play to mid-sized venues in front of adoring but relatively knowledgeable fans, though the unfortunate consequence of a career that does not soar into ubiquity – as Mitchell’s pop punk band Jebediah threatened to do in the late 1990s – were laid bare by Evans’ chuckling concession before Hand Me Downs that he never seemed to have any money.

The latter part of the show brought an even more joyous and impromptu air to proceedings, from the return of Poltz to the stage for a duet of Afternoon Delight, to covers or snippets of Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay, Lilly Allen’s It’s Not Fair and an inspired segue of Taxman into Let Forever Be. The closing instrumental flourish at the tail end of We’re A Mess loosely resembled psychedelia seen through the Westralian lense of the Panics, and might hint at a more obtuse direction Evans may explore next time out, now that he has bid farewell to the suburbs.