Something about Josh Pyke’s indefatigable wholesomeness makes him a kind of guilty pleasure. His melodies are delicate, verging on polite; even his teddy-bear-fur beard wouldn’t put your Mum off him.

There is, however, more to Pyke than a career soundtracking Packed to the Rafters. For all the easy-listening acoustic strumming and his sweet, summery harmonies, Pyke is a deceptively sophisticated songwriter. His rich, floating chord progressions hide complex arrangements behind an effortless air, and his lyrical prowess slides resonant symbolism and heart-stoppingly intimate moments into charming folk-pop. Over the course of two albums, Pyke has developed a distinctive artistic voice with a balancing sense of creative restlessness.

Chimney’s Afire, Pyke’s most recent record, hints at an artist in a transitional state, and the structure of the – œVariations’ tour reflects his efforts to integrate his folkie roots with a burgeoning pop sensibility. Broken into loose thirds, the evening sees Pyke performing first solo, before being joined by a low-key backing band, later ending the show with a rousing full band affair.

When Pyke first takes the stage to perform the evening’s solo set, the awkwardness of Luna Park’s Big Top as the venue of choice becomes obvious. Much like his music, Pyke’s stage presence is unassuming and understated. On record, this is delightfully intimate, and in a smaller venue, would be similarly pleasant. However, in the concrete-and-steel atmosphere of the Big Top, it falls short.

Crowd noise continues unabated, echoed and amplified by the venue’s sub-par acoustics. Pyke appeared unfazed, but the understatement of his folkier material wasn’t enough to really silence the crowd. The audience did pause in their chatter during The Lighthouse Song to song along with the ooh-Nanna-aren’t-we-naughty line “I’ll just hold you tight and we’ll not let those fuckers in”, but the effect sadly didn’t stick.

The small-scale band experiment of the second chapter was mildly more successful, though still plagued by chatter. The arrangements were subtle augmentors that still kept Pyke at the music’s centre, and allowed him to incorporate some different timbres. A gorgeous rendition of Memories and Dust, with Pyke taking up a mandolin, cut through the room with a subtle grace that echoed the original’s intimacy even on so large a scale. Similarly, the hotly anticipated Middle of the Hill drew a rapturous response, achieving what no other song managed all night: the audience’s undivided attention.

After a pause to clear the stage, Pyke took the stage not as a solo performer with a backing band, but, it seemed, a part of a band. By far the loudest segment of the night, it also seemed Pyke’s favourite moment of the night. New material aired by Pyke on the night reflected his emergent pop edge; albeit tempered by a former folkie’s love for verbose choruses.

In closing the night, Pyke suggested that a hiatus from touring might result in some studio time, and on the strength of tonight alone, expectations will be high. It will be a pleasure to see how Pyke develops.