Smoked cheese and soul

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Coming on like a truckle of cheddar, Robinson (possibly popular music's least likely candidate for the crack-cocaine addiction to which he surrendered much of the Eighties and Nineties) praised those who sang along to My Girl, the hit he wrote for The Temptations. "It was like The Temptations themselves are in the crowd," he gushed (trust me: it wasn't).

Gallery: See more pictures from the gig here

He told us he loved writing about love almost as much as he loved love itself and, at the very end, he prolonged the once-silky Cruisin' by 15 minutes of embarrassing audience participation where Team 1 discovered if they could sing louder than Team 2. The man is a titan of soul and titans of soul do not need to became cheap hucksters.

And that came on top of an unforgivably tinny sound for a 23-strong band, lighting that struggled to illuminate anything and the segment comprising anodyne covers of standards that plugged his newish album.

Even so, once Robinson found the range that initially eluded him, his anguished falsetto (the one of which ABC noted "when Smokey sings, I hear violins") swept imperiously through Quiet Storm, Tears Of A Clown and a still over-brisk Being With You.

Yet, there could be no Smokey without fire and The Tracks Of My Tears burned. Starting with original guitarist Marv Tarplin plucking out the instantly recognisable motif, the others gradually joined in until it reached a soul crescendo as singer, band and arrangement combined to treat a wonderful, timeless song with the imagination it deserved. Finally.

Smokey Robinson
Royal Albert Hall