Robert Wyatt, for our younger readers, was the drummer in 70s avant-rockers The Soft Machine, then Matching Moles. In 1973 a fall from a window left him confined to a wheelchair, the cruellest aspect of which, he observed, was that a drum kit is the only rock instrument you need all four limbs to play. Undeterred, he continued with a solo career, producing a number of highly personal albums, earning huge critical acclaim for his haunting, minimalist keyboard-playing and incredible voice, which many have described as the saddest in the world. His 1982 album ‘Nothing Can Stop Us’ contained possibly his finest moment in ‘At Last I Am Free’, where he took an obscure Chic ballad with lush Californian strings and transformed it into a gut-wrenching epic of such intensity that it’s almost too painful to listen to. Stage fright led to him giving up live performances in 1975, though he made a gloriously surreal guest appearance on John Shuttleworth’s radio show earlier this year.

Last year he asked friend and trombonist Annie Whitehead to put a band together to play some of his songs. The resulting eight-piece group on stage tonight includes Julie Tippetts (aka Julie ‘This Wheel’s On Fire’ Driscoll) and Lol Coxhill on sax. Most songs are from the early part of his solo career and are played with immense care and precision. Janette Mason’s keyboards are delicate and understated, while the three-piece horn section provides some punch just where it’s needed. The only weak link is Ian Maidman’s voice. While it’s quite similar to Wyatt’s, that’s like a boxer whose punches are quite similar to Mike Tyson’s. Julie Tippetts’ deep, throaty tones work better by not forcing us to compare her with the original.

It’s somewhat of a shock to find that this is very much a jazz gig, all nodding heads and Hawaiian shirts but, like all jazz, it’s the space in between the sounds that counts and when it works, which is most of the time, it is quite mesmerising.

With numerous solo spots the only criticism may be that the whole affair is a little self-conscious, which is the last word you could possibly apply to his records. But look down at the front row and there’s Robert, head bobbing, easily the most animated member of the audience. Tonight’s show was a mixture of raw emotion, technical perfection and a vague sense of unease. I think that was the point.

Art Lagun