Mick Hucknall, Indigo, O2, London

When I close my eyes, it all sounds pretty good. When Mick Hucknall retired Simply Red, to some extent he put the criticism behind him too. What remains is a 47-year-old Mancunian soul boy with a special voice. His debut solo album, Tribute to Bobby, which he's showcasing tonight, takes on songs defined by the blues singer Bobby Bland, and, Hucknall has said, is an end to being "a slave to pop success".

The set is a chicly distressed blues joint; the band is slick and Hucknall dapper in a grey Italian suit. The smoothness of the setting is matched by the music. These songs, by Don Covay and others, have the urban craft and dark wit of a Cole Porter. The titles Hucknall calls out – "I'm Too Far Gone (to Turn Around)" and the rest – tell you that.

What matters, though, is how Hucknall sings them. In the best way, it's a studied voice, clean and technically excellent. A direct sense of phrasing shames most of his trilling contemporaries. On "Ain't That Loving You", the way he lets the word "love" hang in the air is masterful. But though he takes his jacket off, he never breaks sweat. There is no sense of a deeper purpose, no mingling of the sacred and profane. But then, Hucknall is too happy to be hurting – and total mastery needs some pain.