These are curious times for Morrissey. He has been sued for a million quid by his former drummer and labelled "devious, truculent and unreliable" by a high court judge. But also his career has never really recovered from the accusations of racism that accompanied some ambiguous lyrics and a brief flirtation with the union flag. Accusations that the Irish Mancunian (who has performed for Artists Against Apartheid) never sought to dignify with a response.

Now the label-less singer, who crafted a persecution complex into a glorious career with the Smiths, has attempted to bar his oppressors - the press - from his gigs. Revenge indeed - for this is the man's finest show in many a moon.

Last time I saw him on a British stage, Morrissey was grim-faced and hardly spoke. Now, there's no stopping him. Whatever brought about this sudden lift in spirits (his move to Los Angeles?) is unclear, but Morrissey has rekindled the rapid-fire wit that captivated a generation. A new song is even called Why Don't Women Like Me?

Morrissey was described in last week's Guardian as "the last pop star", and while Liam or Robbie might want a word about that, a particular kind of stardom was exiled when he fell from sight. From the feverish atmosphere to his stage moves to his supernatural manipulation of the audience, we are left in no doubt that we are in the presence of a true icon.

The music isn't as great as his definitive pop performance. It's a bit Brando-in-Superman and the rockabilly band make a hopeless fist of Is it Really So Strange? - one of three Smiths classics. But when you want things to soar they do. Meat Is Murder - played for the first time since 1985 - is prescient amid the kerfuffle over beef and sewage.

He arrived on stage to Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? and leaves, impeccably, to My Way. Against all odds, his way suddenly sounds irresistible all over again.

• At the Forum, London from Sunday to Tuesday (box office: 0171-344 0044), then touring