It's simple equation, but it holds true nonetheless: big band plus small venue equals major excitement. For fans of The Red Hot Chili Peppers, last night's show was a dream come true. Granted, this particular dream was to come to a slightly unceremonious end, but the veteran funk rockers nonetheless gave their loyal following a night to remember.

A powerful demonstration of the genuine benefits of corporate involvement in pop music, the show was organised by indie radio station XFM for a broadcast on 10 December.

The newly renovated Roundhouse, far smaller than the venues in which the group normally perform, enjoyed admirable acoustics, good vantage points for the vast majority of the crowd, and a simple but highly effective lighting rig, and the Chili Peppers made the most of it.

Can't Stop, a percussive powerhouse of a track, was the perfect opener, with singer Anthony Kiedis provoking spontaneous screams as he and his band strutted and jumped around in a breathtaking explosion of raw energy.

Scar Tissue, meanwhile, showed off what is, for me, the group's greatest asset: their ability to combine punchy, aggressive, hip- hop- f lavoured rhythms with irresistibly melodious hooks.

The other impressive quality that came to the fore - as well as the sheer number of great songs in their repertoire - was the huge range of sounds and tempos they're able to conjure up, frequently within the same exquisitely crafted song.

One factor, however, that prevented a very good show from becoming a great one was the group's tendency towards seemingly interminable, rather self-indulgent instrumental interludes. Still, if you're going to be subjected to an open-ended jamming session, you might as well have it courtesy of the The Red Hot Chili Peppers.

The fortysomething Californians' musical contributions were as lean and taut as their physiques, which displayed that curious combination of muscle definition and dishevelment that can be observed in fellow gymgoing ex-druggies such as Iggy Pop.

Flea's flamboyance as he showboated with his bass guitar in no way eclipsed his brilliance on the strings.

In fact, the only let-down in terms of musicianship came from Kiedis himself. Although his charisma and physical energy were unrelenting, with the frontman spending most of the show bouncing around the stage like a boxer, his voice seemed to run out of steam towards the end.

The wonderfully anthemic Californication should have sent the crowd wild, but a series of bum notes from Kiedis and the cumulative effect of the over-long instrumentals conspired to take the edge of the audience's ecstasy.

For reasons known only to himself, Kiedis left the stage a few minutes before the end, leaving the other three to engage in another bout of what sounded and looked (judging from their facial expressions) like an exercise in musical masturbation.

For a group with the talent - and the back catalogue - to end their show with a bang, this was a disappointing end to an otherwise thrilling night.