THE thing you have to remember about Georgie Fame is that it was performers like him who brought integrity to pop music.

Before he came along, the charts were an easy sneer for everyone who could lay claim to a Coleman Hawkins record. But after a northern lad by the name of Clive Powell got to number one with Yeah, Yeah, nothing would ever be the same again.

Like the blues and jazz artists they venerated, the baby-boomer musicians are now reminiscing in their rocking chairs.

And no one does it better than this veteran of the old British rhythm and blues scene - his entire being is permeated in the muse of Mose Allison, and though a tribute came a little belatedly, it was better late than never.

However, Georgie Fame is not backward when paying tribute to his influences, which range from Louis Armstrong to Sonny Boy Williamson and probably everything in between. Whether it's Lloyd Price's Lawdy Miss Clawdy or an urgent call from Rice Miller to "help me baby", Fame reminds us of how interesting it was when many a Midlander caught the train to London and boogied the night away at the Flamingo, only to emerge bleary-eyed at dawn.

As befitting an elder statesman of Britain's golden decade of music, his sons James and Tristan accompany their father in his journey through nearly 50 years of showbiz, the former performing well in the drumming chair and the latter acquitting himself with aplomb in the guitar department.

However, he should perhaps cut back on the wah-wah pedal a tad - Jimi Hendrix's Red House is best cooked without sauce, believe me.

This concert served as a reminder of the days when a star could regularly deliver mass appeal hits yet still attract the attentions of the leather elbow patches brigade.

Those days may indeed be long gone, but it doesn't hurt to remind ourselves of how great they were occasionally.