Tricky is one weird cat. I know that’s not terribly observant, nor is it a revelatory statement about one of the mid-1990s most idiosyncratic artists, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t true. And seeing him live at the Phoenix on a Tuesday night helped shed some light on his cagey reclusiveness.  For the Toronto stop on his first North American tour in five years, the Knowle West boy himself spent the greater part of the set's first half chain-smoking spliffs, twitching to the tunes and occasionally singing a verse or two.

Which is not to say that Tricky wasn’t entirely captivating. Backed by a four-piece band and singer Veronika Coassolo, the show began on a slithering groove as Tricky and Coassolo whispered the verses to “Past Mistake” through clenched teeth. Tricky soon worked himself into an ecstatic state, reaching for (presumably) the heavens and reciting the song’s line: “I hope Jesus comes,” again and again. The track, from newly-minted album Knowle West Boy, was followed by possibly the least obvious live staple in his entire catalogue: his Vulnerable-era cover of The Cure’s “Lovecats.” This song is just so wrong for Tricky that it somehow works — probably because it doesn’t bear any resemblance to Robert Smith’s ill-advised silliness.

Clearly the crowd was on board for this ride as the place positively erupted to the opening beat of “Black Steel” from Tricky’s 1995 breakthrough debut Maxinquaye. While this may be the only album that everyone in the venue was guaranteed to own, the familiarity opened the show up for less popular tracks like the menacing swing of un-menacingly-titled “Puppy Toy” and a completely banging version of Blowback’s “Girls” (and not just because those Chilli Pepper clowns weren’t around for their verses). In what seemed like an abrupt departure, the band left the stage after about 50 minutes at the conclusion of the hoodlum caveat “Council Estate,” but they were far from finished.

The next 40 or so minutes of encore would be consumed by a lengthy version of Pre-Millenium Tension’s “Vent” and then a ridiculously extended take on new track “Joseph.” Keeping in mind the latter clocks in at a spare two-and-a-half minutes on disc, Tricky led his band through close to 20 minutes of build-ups, breakdowns, exorcising screams and sensual duets — all the while repeatedly toppling the drummer’s bass drum (much to their overworked tech girl’s chagrin), laying waste to a succession of seemingly faulty microphones and (finally) sharing a joint with the crowd. When it comes to Tricky, patience is a well-rewarded virtue.