BB King, Royal Albert Hall, London

Like Count Basie, and Duke Ellington before him, BB King is black-American musical royalty, and he is very proud of his road band. It has been lovingly fashioned over many hard years, and is now a living testament to the era and world from which he comes.

Now aged 75, a lessening of his ferocious work rate seems inevitable. It is true that he engages in more chat than ever before, and that his easy-going raconteur delivery is more laid-back than ever. But when he primes himself, Blues Boy Riley King is capable of shaving 40 years off his age and going back to the golden heart of his career.

Admittedly, the 20-minute introduction before he reaches the stage, where each member of the eight-piece outfit takes the limelight, had begun to try the patience by the time he arrived. His entrance, in a sequinned jacket, was all the more welcome. In fact, the only difference between his performance tonight and 15 years ago, is that age dictates that he stays seated for the duration.

His following in this country remains especially strong, hardly surprising considering his influence on guitar greats such as Peter Green, George Harrison and recent collaborator Eric Clapton. Regular visits to these shores ensure he is treated like a favoured ambassador. Riveting and thrilling, King's fret style is clearly reflected in his ever-active facial expressions, which show both the glee and anguish contained in his sweet but sharp tone. The crowd have come to see a legend who has earned the right to deprecate himself. "People say I can't stand up to play guitar no more. They've got that just about right,'' he says between endless thanks to the audience for simply turning up.

But BB has many strings to his bow, and he draws on several to give the show depth and drama. "Hit to Loose" highlights his gruff stentorian ballad voice, accompanied with blasting horns and delirious bar-room piano. His tub-thumping drummer propels "Bad Case of Love" into dirt-road juke-joint territory, underlining a crucial aspect of BB's appeal, the raw beating heart wrapped in elegance and sophistication.

In the vocal tidal-wave that announces "In My Lifetime", he lays his heart on the line, but the stop-and-start routine on Louis Jordan's "Caldonia" is an unnecessarily hard gimmick. But directly afterwards, a pared-down version of the band crouched around him for a feverish instrumental assault. BB's fuzz tone and sustain pushed to the fore, stoked by the fiery organ and rambunctious base. This was a switch from the ridiculous to the sublime that exploded in the face of those who may wish to classify the preceeding routine as a sign of artistic fatigue. With the death of John Lee Hooker, King proves himself the last of the great electric blues men. By simply turning up, he enriches us all.