It could have been a Bob Dylan gig we were waiting for, filled as the foyer was with two complimentary emotions.

One was the heightened air of anticipation of being in the same room as a man who was there transforming the world in the 1960s, albeit in this case a more obscure corner of it.

The other was that feeling of preresignation - the view that it will be worth it even if he turns out to be not much cop these days.

The sound was still intact, though less strident than of yore, and there were some tempting forays into the higher altitudes of the tenor saxophone range where the thinner air can leave the unsuspecting listener a mite light-headed.

What was most striking was the way in which Pharaoh Sanders tries to carry the spirit of John Coltrane on to generations that missed his great teacher.

So we had My Favourite Things ? la Coltrane, and the great man's Naima. Sanders had also begun with a Coltraneish free- time ballad against a stormy sea of piano arpeggios, bowed bass and splashing cymbals.

His playing is direct, relatively simple in melodic terms, all his energies given to getting that sound and conveying that emotion. It was remarkably cleansing - emetic even - leaving the contemporary British jazz we had heard the week before sounding ever so slightly constipated in its reserve and intellectualism.

It turned out not so much Bob D, more James Brown. The band was excellent and, though the ageing leader had to take time out to catch this breath, what we got was enough for us to remain satisfied. He danced too.

Peter Bacon