Chuck Berry is unarguably one of the seminal influences on rock'n'roll; the pivotal reason the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Beach Boys and Bob Dylan (and, thus, almost everybody since) sound as they do. He is, however, less of a hero to generations of judges, having fought charges from armed robbery in his teens to tax evasion; in 1990 he was accused of video-taping women visiting his restaurant's toilet.

Moments after arriving in a typically outlandish diamante-studded suit, he extols the virtues of "laydeez", wine and, well, enchiladas. The Missouri-born guitarist has played these songs a million times, and fools around with them to maintain his interest. Roll Over Beethoven appears to have misplaced its verses and chorus in the pub; Rock'n'Roll Music is closer to the sound of industrial machinery. While someone changes his string, which is very important to him - "I don't wanna half do it, you know" - Berry recites a two-minute poem that somehow manages to leap from sin to Chinese carpets. The wily old fox manages to elicit howls of female sympathy for the line "Nobody loves me, nobody seems to care" and deals with any hecklers by pleasantly offering to acquaint them with "a piece of my ass".

Just as it seems that a succession of blues jams are merely vehicles for eyebrow-raising one-liners, Berry gets in the mood. Carol, Little Queenie and especially a roaring Johnny B Goode are unleashed straight, with the blistering energy that made them into standards. The near-octogenarian plays guitar on the floor and coaxes eight women aged 16 to 60 on to the stage. Ominously, artist and guests all disappear through the same exit.

· At the Royal Festival Hall, London SE1 (0870 401 8181), tomorrow. Then touring.