Moby is a studio wizard. He draws freely on the work of others to produce the catchy sounds film-makers and advertisers can't get enough of.

However, translating this success to the stage is not easy.

For the first hour of his show, I couldn't fault Moby.

To begin with, the theatricals were pretty good, they built up quickly as soon as the lights were dimmed.

A trio of women appeared, all in white, playing string instruments.

The rest of the band soon joined them, followed by Moby.

He sprinted on as if pursued by a bear, then dashed around from one person to the next like he was amazed to find them alive. He kept this up throughout the show.

As a counterpoint to the manic energy, the backdrop and lighting were tranquil.

A mountain range filled the width of the whole stage and above it twinkled a galaxy of stars - it sounds corny but it was actually very tasteful.

Moby's set fully reflected his range of interests.

One minute, he was bludgeoning us with edgy dance anthems, heavy onslaughts of keyboards and percussion.

The next, charming us with warm and wistful atmospherics, brought to life by the gospel voice of Dianne Charlemagne.

Songs from Moby's smash-hit album 18 were combined with cuts from 1999's Play - and with material from his days as a dancefloor specialist.

From the pounding urgency of favourites such as Go to the more gentle, hymnal tracks like Porcelain, Moby rang the changes well and avoided lingering too long in any one groove.

He seemed to understand that frequent mood changes were his best way of engaging his expanded, mainstream audience.

Until, that is, he lost the plot.

Like a genius who enjoys nothing better than to go beyond his usual range to show off the size of his talent, Moby took an unfortunate detour round some rock 'n' roll cliches.

The first verse of Black Sabbath's Paranoid was flowed into The Ramones' Blitzkreig Bop and we had a shabby medley on our hands.

Meanwhile his between-song chat was getting very long-winded and not exactly blessed with either wit or topicality.

Moby started to sound like someone who has spent too long in bedrooms, studios and hotels.

He should get out more and stop believing he can dabble in whatever he fancies.