Back in the 1980s, and I daresay the 1990s, it would have taken a consortium of leading stylists and design consultants to create anything more unfashionable than Chris Rea. A taciturn character from Middlesbrough, he was prone to knocking out middle-of-the-road hits like Let's Dance and Fool If You Think It's Over - blues and soul with most of the blues and soul taken out.

But there is nothing like a life-threatening experience to transform a fellow's perspective. A couple of years ago, Rea became seriously ill and underwent several difficult operations. He decided that if he survived, he would make the gutbucket blues album he had always yearned to record. The result was his LP Stony Road, which provides much of the material for tonight's show.

Gaunt and stubbly, Rea has been transformed from a pudgy AOR journeyman into a bandleader and slide guitarist of some substance. Arriving on stage half an hour early (to the indignation of quite a few punters), Rea is surrounded by a deft and sympathetic squad of musicians, including guitarist Robert Ahwai and the bunker-shaped Sylvin Marc on bass. He lets himself drift back into the landscape of the Mississippi delta, peeling off nimble slide-guitar forays that stir up echoes of anyone from Fred McDowell to Ry Cooder.

As well as the unadulterated blues, like Someday My Peace Will Come or the ominous Easy Rider, the band venture outwards into gospel, New Orleans funk and Memphis boogie, and cast a few glances Africa-wards. At one point Rea picks up a thing that looked like a biscuit tin with a guitar neck stuck on the end and strikes up a brisk township groove.

If there is a problem with the new-deal Rea, it is a creeping sameness in the material, with too many pieces blurring into one another. None the less, this new direction is a bold step.

· At the Carling Apollo, Manchester (0870 401 8000), tomorrow, the Royal Concert Hall, Nottingham (0115-989 5555), on Wednesday, and the Liverpool Empire (0870 606 3536) on Thursday. Then touring.