Malian meditation

ST LUKE'S was an inspired and fitting choice. Once, it witnessed sermon and religious ritual, before falling into ruin and victim to plunder after its 1964 closure.

Restored and reinvigorated on behalf of the London Symphony Orchestra, today it's a place of worship of a different kind, where the likes of Beethoven, Mozart and Shostakovich are praised in song by some of the brightest talents in classical music. But it sometimes plays host to musical voices with a less Eurocentric bent too.

If anyone can claim to possess a gift worthy of earthly exultation, it is Malian kora virtuoso Toumani Diabate.

And it is a lucky few tonight who have the opportunity to witness his rare skills, live, alone and certainly spiritual.

Critical acclaim for Diabate's recent release The Mande Variations was richly deserved.

Revisiting the solo format that made his name in the West in 1987, the album features compositions and improvisations that meld into a mesmeric whole, as if warping time itself, aided by a recording that picks up even the slightest vibration.

Tonight, as the air of expectation intensifies inside St Luke's, the returns queue trails back into the church yard, standing testimony to the excitement surrounding Diabate's visit.

While a larger venue may have prevented these unlucky souls from missing out, it surely would have come at a price.

Here, in these hallowed surrounds, the meditational properties of Diabate's recordings are retained in full.

His flowing white robes rustle as he takes his place behind the imposing four-foot kora. Without further ado, he plunges straight into an entrancing version of Kaira.

His multistringed instrument must take somewhat more than a minute to learn. In Diabate's hands, it is tamed by a master.

Basslines underpin trademark, harp-like kora polyrhythms. These, in turn, are overlaid with melodies that burst sometimes into breathtaking flurries. That a single mind is capable of delivering such musical complexity is uplifting to behold.

The start of Cantelowes, heralded by a hefty slice of Morricone, prompts a joking whistle from the audience and widespread laughter. Pausing, Diabate warns the crowd playfully: "I am in charge here, I say when you have to laugh," before ploughing on with renewed vigour.

While his improvisation Islam may have challenged some in the audience, it draws warm applause, which turns, following later songs, into an elated frenzy.

The encore sees a very special version of Ai Ga Bani, Diabate's collaboration with the late, great Ali Farka Toure, as Buena Vista Social Club double bassist Cachaito Lopez steps up to the stage to help play out the night.

It marks a magical end to a classical concert indeed.

The Mande Variations is out now on World Circuit Records.