Daniel Johnston

Standing outside Queen's Hall, a punter is heard asking: “Do I look like a Daniel Johnston fan?” Judging by the even split of plaid-clad hipsters and middle-aged rockers in the queue, there doesn't seem to be a ready archetype. Johnston's career has spanned three decades and a diverse mix of devoted followers still flock en masse to his shows.

Support act The Wave Pictures are met with a somewhat cool response, but their clever mix of acoustic slow-jams and indie-pop laments prompt a rapid thaw. Following on from the Leicestershire trio is Laura Marling, whose set-up consists of little more than a guitar and a small glass of white wine (a fitting gesture for an artist once refused entry to her own gig for being underage). She laughs nervously at pantomime heckles from a pair of drunks, then quietly endears herself by professing a desire to live in Edinburgh, “the last of the graceful cities”. She opens strong with the enchanting 'Ghosts', while 'My Manic and I' really allows her voice to shine. The real highlight, however, comes with the country twang of 'Rambling Man'. Marling's nervous asides and intricate folk songs charm the crowd, who seem genuinely sorry to see her go.

Then Daniel Johnston steps onstage without ceremony, drops a set-list at his feet, and starts to sing. His voice retains its youthful pitch and wavering timbre, but his long and well-documented battle with mental illness seems to have taken its toll. His chord progressions seem laboured and, when he sings, his hands shake at his side. The set wavers between magnificence and frustration: 'Life in Vain' and 'True Love Will Find You In The End' are delivered with convincing passion, but 'Living Life' feels flat. Despite this, his audience hang on every drawled word and Johnston's banter draws knowing chuckles and cheers. Johnston may be troubled, but he remains one of music's cult heroes.