Donovan Leitch will always be remembered for the scene in the classic Dylan film Don't Look Back where the poet colossus (that's Bob, by the way) surveys the shaking, tousle-haired young pretender and sneers It's All Over Now, Baby Blue. Forty years on, it seems the uncharitable legend had a point: in Leeds, the baby-faced, slightly camp 59-year-old re-creates his youth with tales of hashish and songs about witches. Many sound like Spinal Tap. Some probably inspired Spinal Tap. But these days, the hippies' unintentional court jester has tongue firmly in cheek. Donning "psychedelic glasses", he tells us: "Now I see you naked ... I don't know where this is going."

Normal people never quite "got" Donovan, but each time he was threatened with obscurity, along came new champions, mainly musicians with minds bent by hallucinogens into thinking that daft whimsical pop is the future of rock'n'roll. Butthole Surfers covered Hurdy Gurdy Man; Happy Mondays took Donovan on tour. As he suddenly "goes electric" (where did he get that idea?), it's somehow unsurprising to see the former punk enfant terrible Rat Scabies giving an accomplished, tasteful performance on drums.

Otherwise, Donovan's "career" has been troubled by the smallest handful of hit singles, one of which - Sunshine Superman - is sung here minus vowels. However, it's impossible not to like him, even if new song Beat Cafe sounds like a Harry Enfield impersonation. As he tells us of hanging with Jack Kerouac, the Beatles and Joan Baez (Dylan's ex - revenge!), Donovan seems like a cross between Forrest Gump and Eddie "the Eagle" Edwards, with tunes.

As Colours and Mellow Yellow inspire an audience who have sat through heaps of hogwash into romps of celebration, Donovan's greatest talent is revealed to be self-preservation. All he needs now is for Pete Doherty to pronounce him a poetic genius, and British-institution status seems assured.

· At the Assembly Rooms, Derby, tonight. Box office: 01332 255800. Then touring.