However, it is certain that the event was pivotal in the development of modern performance poetry. Forty years later, some of the original faces returned to the scene of the crime with some new talent in tow.

A comparison between the original and the revival illustrates how things have changed. Back the '60s, the punters arrived with wine and cannabis to be shared. Tables were set out in the arena, piled with fruit and incense. The modern manifestation was a much more sober and sedate affair, with a well-to-do crowd sitting politely in their seats and applauding.

But instead of being a requiem for a lost dream, the evening had its sights fixed on the present as well as the past. The evening began with Christopher Logue, a stalwart of the '60s. Technical problems meant that his set was interrupted by two penetrating blasts of feedback. Once these gremlins were banished, the night flowed on smoothly -- with the exception perhaps of Spike Hawkins, whose delivery was compromised by his self-confessed consumption of some "grass".

But there were some truly amazing performances that more than made up for any slight hiccups. Stacy Makishi, a performace artist born in Hawaii, came on stage inside a suitcase wheeled on by a stagehand. When she popped out, it brought a round of applause. Her piece was a funny yet incisive discourse on how the Americans had tested nuclear weapons on Pacific islands such as Bikini Atoll. She wasn't on stage for nearly as long as I would have liked.

As an ex-Brixtonian, Linton Kwesi Johnson is a familar sight to me in his trilby, suit and tie. Having seen him walking down the streets so many times, it was quite strange to see him in his usual habitat on stage. He took this opportunity to deliver three elegies to people who had been close to him. As this event was a commemoration of times past, it was poignant to hear him remember those now departed.

Adrian Mitchell was one of the original '60s poets out of the Liverpool scene. It was quite a nice surprise to realise that I'd actually studied his poetry at Junior school -- so it was quite surreal to hear him perform his poem about school bullying entitled 'The Killing Ground'. Suddenly I recalled a long-forgotten lesson where we were put into groups and all performed the poem to crude accompaniment from whatever broken percussion instruments were avalable to us. He also performed a poem about the importance of working for peace, alas as relevant now as it was back then.

There were also some outstanding musical performances on the night. Kathryn Williams has a beautiful pure voice which was accompanied by her acoustic guitar. Eliza Carthy on the other hand has an amazing voice, which boomed out and filled the Albert Hall marvellously. For a folk singer, she had a lot of sex appeal -- imagine Mae West with an accordion and you'll get the idea.

Fran Landesman, another of the original '60s mob, performed some highly amusing ditties accompanied by some flaky guitar work from her son. The superlative John Hegley was hilarious, playing the mandolin and reciting poetry accompanied by double bass -- he got one of the loudest rounds of applause and deservedly so.

A real personal treat for me was seeing the William Blake Klezmatrix perform. I've been a long-time admirer of William Blake as well as the Penguin Cafe Orchestra, who had a certain Annie Whitehead amongst their number. I was initially dubious about the idea of setting Blake to Klezmer, the Jewish folk music that resembles melancholic jazz. But as soon as they started playing, all doubts dispelled.

After all, Blake used Hebrew terms like 'Beulah' in his personal mythology, so the two forms weren't as incompatible as I'd initially supposed. Annie Whitehead played a trombone that seemed to be as tall as her whilst Michael Horovitz emoted Blake, with accompaniment from a flautist and pianist. A brave experiement that I would like to see more of.

The evening was rounded off with a performance uniting the talents of singer-songwriter Rachel Fuller on the piano, Pete Townshend of The Who on acoustic guitar and Jerry Hall performing a spoken word piece about 'no-one in particular' but obviously about her ex-husband Mick Jagger.

Rachel Fuller has an incredible voice, reminiscent of Joni Mitchell and is a talented pianist to boot. Thrashing the guitar like it was 1965, Townshend made a loud sound that I didn't think was possible from a mere acoustic. Jerry Hall was something of a revelation - her diction was clear, confident and well-metered. A career on the London poetry circuit beckons I feel...

The Mullah

The William Blake Klezmatrix will be appearing at the 100 Club as part of the National Poetry Day Superjam. Full details are at http://www.poetryolympics.com

special thanks to Debbie Gold for making vital arrangements and general support www.outerglobe.com