The Blind Boys Of Alabama, Brighton Dome, Brighton

They may be blind and from Alabama but boys they are not. The Blind Boys Of Alabama are gospel music's most enduring institution, having been together since 1939 when they were students at the Talladega Institute for the Deaf and Blind. They started out, aged 10, as the Happy Land Jubilee Singers, performing in churches throughout Alabama. It wasn't until 1948 that they went professional and became the Blind Boys Of Alabama (their arch rivals were Archie Brownlee's Blind Boys of Mississippi).

The trio come with a uniquely eclectic approach to their art. Taking stock of new sounds and styles, their latest Grammy-winning album Spirit Of The Century – their 22nd – mixes gospel standards with songs by Tom Waits, Ben Harper and the Rolling Stones. The channel of inspiration flows both ways, however. Moby's sampling of their song "Run On for a Long Time" on his multi-platinum Play album introduced them to a new generation brought up on bleeps rather than blues.

In an age when gospel is synonymous with big choirs and sequinned soul divas, the Blind Boys may seem something of an anomaly. Nowadays they look more like elderly gangsters than serious singers in their matching sandy suits and shades, but they sure know how to put on a show. They sing in haunting, three-part harmonies set against swampy blues arrangements, a nod to their rural Southern roots. In between songs, the genial lead singer Clarence Fountain alternates between selling their wares ("If you don't have the record, now might be a good time to get it") and selling Jesus. They come with a mischievous streak, too – "Amazing Grace" is re-worked to the melody of the whorehouse blues number "House of the Rising Sun". At the end the stick-thin Jimmy Carter holds a note for so long that you have to suppress the urge to call an ambulance.

As the show goes on, the singers become increasingly excitable, spontaneously jumping out of their seats, wiggling their hips and letting out great yelps of joy. They're an undeniably charismatic bunch, and it's not long before their proselytising takes effect upon their flock. "Oh Lord!" shrieks one man, affecting a peculiar Southern accent and throwing his hands into the air. Others follow his lead and it's not long before all hell (or should I say heaven?) breaks loose, with the audience leaping to their feet and dancing in the aisles. When Carter goes walkabout, singing and praising Jesus all the while, they clamour to shake his hand. This isn't a gig, it's a revivalist meeting – and I'm among the converted.