My mother used to tell me not to criticise people. Things aren't "rubbish", they are "distinctive" or "certainly unique". Which was all very well until I needed those words for Howe Gelb's Saturday night gig, the most peculiar, strained and downright enjoyable I have seen in a long time.

Gelb is a one man phenomenon. A member of Lisa Germano's band OP8, there is a touch of Frank Zappa about him, seeking to introduce some novel twist at every opportunity. He has a fine technique on two instruments, belting out bluesy acoustic guitar and piano rolls that would sound well in a Ferrero Rocher advert. He also has a fine sense of harmony (and dissonance) that allows him to use seriously fruity guitar sequences. And while the lyrics are mainly doggerel, the songs from his debut album Hisser are off-beat gems that Neil Hannon might write if he came from Tucson, Arizona.

When not straining for something to say or fidgeting with gadgetry, his solo show relies on four musical sources : his rickety old voice, his guitar and piano, and tapes of people he has recorded on his travels, including a hindu version of Abba's Dancing Queen and a snatch of Roumanian hurdygurdy music. As he is quick to point out, these are not samples, but tape loops that he build and incorporates into his songs, controlled by using an array of pedals. The results are nothing short of ingenious and, while they are about as far from showbiz as possible, they mark Gelb out as an extraordinary and individual talent.