During Saturday night's show at the Carling Academy, I overheard someone behind me say: "Steve Earle - best songwriter in the world. After Dylan, that is."

The trouble with Dylan, of course, is that to find a decent album, you always have to wade through two or three stinkers first.

Earle's back catalogue doesn't include a single dud - even The Hard Way, the notorious document of the singer-songwriter at his most strung out, has its share of inspired moments.

The most consistent (and persistent) of the old-school troubadours, Earle is constantly moving the goalposts, combining a spectrum of influence and innovation to rival that of Tom Waits with a sensitivity to the zeitgeist that, even at 53, still ensures his relevance.

To this end, he turned up in Oxford with wife Alison Moorer as support and DJ/programmer Neil MacDonald as his backing band.

A far cry from the last time I saw him, in the early 90s, when he was touring with a high-octane, leather-clad line up of the Dukes, his long-time musical muscle.

The new album, Washington Square Serenade, marks perhaps the most radical creative departure for Earle since El Corazon in 1997, tied in to an equally radical move from Nashville to New York.

The album is the first to make continuous use of the hip-hop-inspired sequencing and programming he has so often hinted at in recent works; lighter in feel (and in politics) than most of his later oeuvre, this is the output of an artist at peace with himself, so much so that, on Steve's Hammer he even, (like Dylan on My Back Pages) finds it in himself to mock his own political extremism.

Earle opens the show with Christmas in Washington', a poignant plea for the return of political reformers in the age of Bush and Iraq, before launching into a quick-fire, and seemingly begrudged, blast through early material.

Half an hour into the set, he hasn't spoken more than the occasional thanks' at the end of the frequently truncated tracks, and looks like a man fulfilling contractual obligations.

It's only when he crosses the boundary into the second half of his career that he really relaxes; the early introduction of MacDonald (who comes and goes sporadically during the night) lifts the spirits and gives him a chance to pull out pretty much everything from the new album.

The DJ approach has left a number of critics cold - it disrupts the solo act/band distinction and even has the unpleasant overtone of the backing track, but in this kind of intimate venue, it works well, complementing rather than overpowering the guitar/vocal focus.

It even offers opportunities for some major overhauling - Transcendental Blues and CCKMP in particular receive unusual, slightly risky Eastern treatments that just about come off.

No Steve Earle show is ever going to be apolitical, but here the polemics are kept at a minimum.

Aside from one well-rehearsed anti-Tory speech and the opening track, it is really down to the stunning Ellis Unit One, his third meditation on the death penalty to date, to carry the load.

Few artists have the combination of sincerity and good taste to carry off three tracks on such a potentially mawkish subject, but each one is a gem. (The subject of the earlier Over Yonder (Jonathan's Song) is, pertinently, buried not far from Oxford).

Beyond this, he seems to be mellowing with age - the lightly anthemic celebration of multi-culturalism, City Of Immigrants, the meditative Down Here Below, the beautifully simple duet Days Aren't Long Enough (for which he brings the wife back on) make this an optimistic show, while the touching Little Rock & Roller (which he dedicates to his late father) reminds us that he has always, since the first album, had a sensitive side.

It is telling, though, that he forgets the words to Copperhead Road, the last song of the night and still the defining Steve Earle track for most people.

Certainly no case of unfamiliarity, it is perhaps more likely that Earle's unconscious efforts to jettison the past are hampered by an audience's expectation that, though relevant once upon a time, is now rather missing the point.

He might well have successfully bid farewell to Guitar Town and all the angst that went with it, but this is one millstone that may prove harder to ditch.

Still, this is a performer looking cool and confident, and only slightly frustrated at still being mistaken for the Steve Earle who (metaphorically and almost literally) died around 1994.