Rock 'n' roll is full of old has-beens, but John Cale is one of the few whose stature has never diminished, and whose integrity still remains intact. Perhaps it's because Cale was never tempted to take the populist road, preferring to craft his gloomy avant-garde pop tunes away from the glare of the spotlight; or maybe it's just that, at 56, the Welsh singer-composer can still deliver his songs in a craggy, commanding baritone, imbuing them with a musty, ancient air of discomfort.

Vicar Street was hushed as Cale coaxed the notes from his grand piano, his face a lined study in concentration as he sang the tale of the Chinese En- voy. Cale's talent for creating cracked musical mosaics was amply demonstrated throughout this solo show, and the rich imagery of Cordoba and The Ballad Of Cable Hogue could whisk the listener into a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel or a Sam Peckinpah western.

Cale also writes bleak winter songs like Broken Hearts and Fear (Is A Man's Best Friend), providing the perfect soundtrack for these grey, blustery days.

Moving from piano to acoustic guitar - and revealing a trendy pair of scarlet keks - Cale strummed and picked his way through the contorted snarl of Leaving It Up To You and the bittersweet nostalgia of The Thoughtless Kind. But when Cale returned to the keyboard for the stretched-out sadness of Heartbreak Hotel (yes, the Elvis song) and the straightforward serenity of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, he really proved his mettle hasn't dulled with age.