There seems to be no particular reason why Procol Harum have reconvened to perform their first British tour in a decade; but then, why not? Gary Brooker's outfit were never part of a scene. In the Sixties they were hardly an average pop group; in the Seventies, though tarred with the progressive rock brush, they didn't fit in with Genesis or Pink Floyd. Thunderclap Newman, maybe.

Whatever the motivation, Southend-born [sic] Brooker was in amiable mood and splendid voice, his American naval commander's jacket and white-as-spume [hair] half tied back into a braided ponytail betokening a welcome whiff of eccentric show business.

Playing customised electric piano Brooker traded sumptuous melodies with the other sole surviving Harum original, the unobtrusive Matthew Fisher, who looked like a computer operator, but manipulated his organ with panache, as it were. A largely male following of a certain age hung off every syllable, a fair achievement when one considers the depth of songs like Conquistador and Homburg, all of which emerged from their 20-year hibernation none the worse for wear.

The evening was better than an elaborate exercise in retrospection and was far from being a slick nostalgia package. During an old-fashioned equipment breakdown that prompted off-stage cries of "Fire!" Brooker embarked on an inconsequential anecdote about setting fire to his trousers with a smouldering pipe at his sister-in-law's wedding anniversary. Not very rock and roll.

The eternally durable A Whiter Shade Of Pale - John Lennon's favourite song of 1967 and an apparent influence on I Am The Walrus - closed the main business with the singer pondering its ineffable nature. "A lot of people have asked - what does it mean? Well, what does any of it mean?" he chuckled. I look forward to with interest to Procol Harum's being rediscovered by Blur and Paul Weller.