Like a mismatched couple on a first date, James Taylor and the O2 Arena struggled to find common ground. Taylor’s music was gentle and intimate, his homespun performing style a model of concision and simplicity. The 20,000-capacity venue, even with its upper tier curtained off, was a vast, impersonal space that demanded some kind of theatrical dimension to the performance. The only point at which they truly found common cause was when Taylor, 61, tackled his perennial Steamroller Blues, which ended with a mighty flourish amid film of fireworks exploding on the screens at the back. The song is, of course, a parody, and he immediately issued a slightly embarrassed disclaimer for such “deeply silly” antics.

For the rest of the time, Taylor did his level best to break down the barrier between artist and audience while staying true to his own understated performance mode. The sound was somehow mixed loud enough to fill the hall, while allowing the intricacies of his acoustic guitar playing and the exquisite backing instrumentation and vocal harmonies to shine through. The three screens at the back showed with crystal clarity what he and the other musicians were up to. He politely acknowledged shouts from the crowd and broke off from the set list to perform Only One in response to a request. There was even a moment of mild anarchy at the start of the second half when Taylor started signing autographs at the front of the stage and fans surged forward.

Promoting Covers, an album of his interpretations of other people’s songs, Taylor spent much of the time singing material better suited to a high-class cocktail lounge or wedding party. Oh, What a Beautiful Morning, Wichita Lineman, Sea Cruise, and (I’m A) Road Runner (during which Taylor supplied a wheezing harmonica part) all suffered from that indefinable naffness to which over-familiar pop standards are prone, no matter who is singing them.

Taylor’s own songs, delivered in his soothing, nut-brown voice, retained their timeless appeal, and the band, featuring the guitarist Michael Landau and the redoubtable Steve Gadd on drums, played with formidable precision. Best of the homegrown numbers was a punchy version of Mexico and a rare and wonderful reading of Down in the Hole, which added darker spice to a familiar mix of favourites including Fire and Rain, Sweet Baby James and You’ve Got a Friend.

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