Bek David Campbell, latterly Beck Hansen, professionally known as just Beck had never played Bournemouth before, but he put that right with a near-two-hour set mixing old favourites, new songs and a few surprises.

Ostensibly touring the Colors album (and strongly representing it), the multi-layered, amusing, affable and chirpy Californian showcased his full repertoire to an appreciative Solent Hall.

With his seven-piece band arranged on two levels to create the illusion of height, the eponymous, diminutive frontman set the mood with regular opener Devil’s Haircut.

A 17-song, well-rounded show followed, demonstrating the ease with which Beck (the individual and band) switched styles effortlessly – from rock and folk to country and funk and much more.

And somehow it all seemed to grow bigger as the evening wore on. His oldie Think I’m In Love morphed into I Feel Love and then he was on stage alone, playing Debra acoustically – and then that turned into a tribute to onlooking film director Edgar Wright.

What followed was the Beck version of Prince’s Raspberry Beret – ‘keeping the music alive’. Of course, later there was room for Loser, the most familiar tune to nob-aficionados, plus Girl and E-Pro.

And, to cap it all, the encore included band introductions with snatches of Chic’s Good Times, Gary Numan’s Cars, the Stones’ Miss You, Talking Heads’ Once In A Lifetime and a drum solo.

A word too, of praise for the lighting guys – the giant screen visuals were excellent.

Sparks, reinvigorated since their liaison with Franz Ferdinand, continue to define synth-pop, art-rock, power pop, operatic pop, disco, call it what you will, leaving so many other bands grateful for their existence.

How time flies. I’ve been waiting 44 years to hear the Sparks classic This Town Ain’t Big Enough For Both Of Us played live since buying the single in Rumbelows in a Kent market town and here it was right before me. Such a good song.

Resplendent in pink jackets, energetic 69-year-old frontman Russell Mael and his five man Sparks crew blitzed through a compact 10-song set. And older brother Ron, all slicked back black hair and trademark pencil moustache, sat behind the keyboards barely moving as usual.

Until that is, a point during No 1 Song In Heaven, when the 72-year-old carefully removed his pink tie, threw it into the crowd, undid the top button of his crisp white shirt and, unexpectedly, began to sashay furiously across the stage. It was certainly the evening’s champagne moment.

It was a shame that opening act Shame were on at the ungodly hour of 7pm when most of Bournemouth was still on the bank holiday beach. Maybe next time lads…