Some players are too crude to be taken seriously, and for me Ornette Coleman has always been champion of that category.

In his opening remarks, he stooped defensively at the mike for a whispered wish "that our set's gonna leave you with a lotta love for all of mankind". Fine sentiments, but after enduring an hour of his inept and pretentious attempts to play the alto sax, trumpet or violin, I stalked out almost ready to throttle somebody.

Surrounded by three bassists - only one of whom, Charnett Moffett, was interested in swinging - Coleman juggled his tableful of instruments uneasily, shrieking out sour-toned, abrasive phrases that were horribly disjointed and about a quarter-tone sharp. His drummer son Denardo set rapid tempos that Ornette studiously ignored, playing sad, old melodies at half the pace.

One of the bassists then played a Bach fugue, a shocking reminder of the intelligence and beauty that music can involve, and suddenly all that had gone before seemed even more of an insult to the senses.

So why three stars? They're all for trumpeter Byron Wallen, bassist Larry Bartley and drummer Tom Skinner, whose warmly inventive curtain-raising trio set did British jazz proud.