London Hammersmith Palais

THERE WAS this strange Mancunian woman with a love of Dionne Warwick and singing tunes with just a drum kit and lightly touched double bass for company. She was fun. Then she brought on three friends, roguish looking young men in suits. They perform backing voice duties and a delightfully sloppy semi jive routine. This group's name was pronounced Carmen but it may well be spelt differently.

Following were the nine sets of gyrating limbs and torsos belonging to the London Dance Troupe. Unusual entertainment, at least for me, but great to watch. Both these acts were special guests who more than merited that billing. Between these things came a truly swinging sound system. People danced and a jolly atmosphere developed. Even the Mecca barstaff were without their customary drab uniform.

The backdrop for the Slits is a washing line hung with odd coloured garments. Bits of fur cover organ and amps. Several standing lamps, with shades, switch on and off at intervals.

Don Letts, or so I'm told is filming a video and hence the reason for the welcome absence of more common unimaginative rock and roll lighting. The Palais is positively transformed. Obviously the Slits drew inspiration from the previous day's screening of Passport To Pimlico and declared this dance-barn Slitland!

The three Slit girls (in incredible headgear) are joined by their usual friends, the honorary Slits. Most of the songs build into a percussive jamboree anchored by the rumbling bass, Tessa being the only person on stage to stick to one instrument. Topping the mixture is Ari's voice, which ranges from the richly melodic (yes she can) to the more familiar teutonic (sorry) screech.

All minstrels embark on impromptu dancing as the mood takes them (it took the audience right from the start). Viv frequently forsakes guitar for congas or just jumping around and Ari has trouble keeping her hat on. She tells us she's ill but no-one would have guessed. “We need fun badly” – she declares as a cue to 'Difficult Fun', “Christmas is coming...”

There is a juggle of Albertine guitar harmonies which gradually assemble into a tune. Ari wails some words and the piece becomes a long and enjoyable ramble through 'In The Beginning There Was Rhythm'. Then comes a relatively conventional delivery of 'Man Next Door', with squeaky, finger slid guitar lines. Ari's madcap prancing finally costs her her hat.

The Slits are hearty, warm and generous. They transmit this via their live music and stage demeanour. Their records, in comparison, are often disappointing.

An abode at the other end of the tube line meant a reviewer severely upset at having to leave before the end. This is rare especially at Hammersmith Palais. If only the borders of Slitland could be extended...