AFTER the mixed reports and poor turnout of Jackson Browne's open air concert, with band, in Belfast during the summer, this solo performance to a rapt and often rapturous full house was a revelation. The choreography of one man accompanying himself on a battery of alternately tuned guitars, grand piano and electric piano on a huge stage to an audience silent until the first daring yell for a request was a fragile metaphor in itself. It was somehow awkward but utterly real - entirely fitting to the essence of Browne's art.

Four songs in, he took that request - Our Lady Of The Well - and the show assumed a magical life of its own. Some 25 songs were played, most of them absent from the written set list, and if the odd chord was fluffed or line forgotten, it was of no consequence. What mattered was the bond between artist and audience which allowed this kind of dialogue to occur.

A knowledge of his material was taken for granted (not a single song was introduced by title, while every one received ripples of acknowledgment within a few bars), but the overwhelming, simple genius of his lyrics struck home at once.

Like Van Morrison, one of Browne's abiding themes is redemption, and the spiritual quality of his work in this area was, in this stripped naked setting, quite unutterably beautiful. What Browne has over Morrison is the common touch, and his relationship of songs and hymns to everyone's aspirations is the work of someone who has maintained humility and consistently refused the keys to the ivory tower.

Most of his classics were played on request - Rosie, The Pretender, Before The Deluge and, as a third encore, Late For The Sky. "This'll clear the room", he said.

We could have stayed all night.