Many benefit concerts leave the charity element almost as an afterthought, the bands trusting that a jolly romp through the hits will put the crowd in a good enough mood to give generously.

Massive Attack, on the other hand, can be relied upon to leave their audience feeling utterly miserable, wracked with guilt if they so much as tap a toe.

Last night's show, the first of two in London in aid of Palestinian children's charity the Hoping Foundation, was a crepuscular crawl around the work of one of our bleakest bands.

The Bristol collective, whose leader Robert "3D" Del Naja was denouncing the invasion of Iraq well before the music world decided it was fashionable to do so, have long believed that while the world continues to be a terrifying place, their songs should reflect that fear.

Having given birth to the entire trip-hop genre and soundtracked many a dinner party with their first two albums, Blue Lines and Protection, in recent years the band have retreated miles from melody in favour of pure atmosphere.

Their later songs are threatening clouds of black smoke that surround the listener with ungraspable dread, grim paranoia with guitars.

Tracks such as the droning, uneasy Butterly Caught were well suited to an evening in which disco lights were replaced by LED screens bombarding the crowd with stark statistics about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Warm soul classic Safe From Harm was accompanied by a barrage of facts about child-mortality rates in Iraq, giving a desolate twist to the line "Just as long as my baby's safe from harm tonight".

Del Naja was as serious as his sounds between songs, although he did display a brief flash of humour when he dedicated Future Proof "to all the young starving models in the world".

It was left to a long-term guest vocalist, reggae-veteran Horace Andy, to spread a little warmth, hitting optimistic high notes on Hymn of the Big Wheel.

Original member Grant "Daddy G" Marshall, uninvolved in the recording of his group's most recent music, was barely there this time either.

Liz Fraser, formerly of the Cocteau Twins, was far more memorable, her wispy tones drifting over a stunning Teardrop, plus Black Milk and bludgeoning heavy-metal closer Group Four.

The hits were present, notably the career-making Unfinished Sympathy, but this was never easy listening.

Light entertainment be damned, this was a band with more important things on its mind.