New Jersey-born guitarist Marc Ribot has had a colourful career. From pick-up band maestro for Chuck Berry and Wilson Pickett, through to avant-garde adventures with John Zorn and Tom Waits, he has carved a niche for himself as one of the most in-demand guitarists in the world. Currently, he is juggling appearing alongside Matthew Bourne's Distortion Trio and as part of Waits's and also Zorn's tours.

Leeds, with the Distortion Trio, proved a somewhat po-faced proposition, the line-up of guitar, drums and keyboards spitting out an unholy fusion of Beefheartian rhythms and dirty Sonic Youth squalling. Ribot's contribution was suitably deranged, but his solo spot provided a more illuminating insight into his talents. He may be able to generate fearsome noise when the situation demands, but he is also a master of the pin-drop silence. The opening number featured broken arpeggios of such vanishing quietness that the ring of the bar till sounded positively apologetic. Alarmingly, the second tune was even quieter. Featuring tiny variations on one dischord, it unfolded in a monochrome haze and had the audience fidgeting. Things brightened up when Ribot switched to an electric guitar and launched into some bone-rattling slide-blues, topped with his own reedy vocals.

Without losing momentum he then slipped into a reverb-heavy take on Gershwin's Summertime, managing to condense Lee Scratch Perry's entire sonic legacy into one shimmering guitar solo.

The history of the Velvet Underground was similarly packaged into a Django Reinhardt tune, which mutated from graceful lyricism into shocking howls of feedback and stuttery clanking. It was all undeniably ingenious, but at times oddly predictable and self-indulgent. Ribot is certainly a wonderful player, but without the charisma and context of one of his big-name employers, he sometimes winds up sounding like a noise in search of a song.