Now then, who's for a slice of extremely hot buttered soul?

Red choir gown, neatly trimmed face fuzz, and - most iconically of all - that famous big bald Malteser head of his: it's as though Isaac Hayes hasn't changed at all in 40 years. And yet we know that he has, in more ways than one.

In 2006, Hayes suffered a stroke. Not a crippling one (although he does move around the stage with some difficulty) but... now, would it be kinder to pretend that this didn't happen, or more patronising? The truth is that when he duets with a guest female singer on a "By the Time I Get to Phoenix"/"I Say a Little Prayer" medley, he noticeably stammers "She'll f-f-f-find the note I left hanging on her door..."

The two components of that medley, Burt Bacharach and Jimmy Webb, are significant to the Hayes story. In addition to being the architect of the Southern soul sound as an artist, session musician and songwriter for Stax records, Hayes became the great rearranger of other people's material. His epic version of Bacharach's "Walk on By" turned the song inside out, stretched it over 12 luscious, quasi- psychedelic minutes, and single-handedly announced the invention of the genre of orchestral soul. And his much sampled early-Seventies albums were a sonic inspiration which would reverberate down the decades.

We are, then, in the presence of a legend. However - and this is the other change - a legend who has recently been an outspoken activist for Scientology. Now, believing that extra-terrestrials have intervened in the course of life on earth is not inherently more batty than the beliefs to which soul singers more commonly adhere. It does mean that, since Hayes quit South Park when it mocked his religion, tonight's gig does not contain "Chocolate Salty Balls".

There is, however, plenty of Hot Buttered Soul. It's disappointing that this tour isn't as orchestral as previous ones (his band are all Korged up), but that disappointment fades when he announces that he plans to celebrate "50 years of soul at Stax" with a song he wrote: Sam & Dave's "Soul Man".

The best is yet to come. Turning his back to us, Hayes begins to conduct his band. First, Steve Potts taps out a nagging tsss-t-t- tsss-t-t-tss rhythm on the hi-hat. Next, the guitarist starts chopping out the sort of wah-wah riff that seems to speak to you. And then it hits you: oh my, he's going to play "Theme From Shaft", isn't he?

Daaamn right.

What an extraordinary piece of music "Shaft" is. Written to order, front-loaded with lyrics to introduce the titular character and with an extended final stretch made up of nothing but string- stabs to accompany action sequences, and somehow it still hangs together. And when you hear it in the flesh, frankly you don't care whether Isaac Hayes's guiding light is L Ron Hubbard or Old Mother Hubbard.

A tiringly humid Sunday evening in a featureless field in an unlovely part of east London may not be the most promising venue for keytar fiends Shy Child to whip up an audience, but New Yorkers Pete Cafarella and Nate Smith manage to get a moshpit going, despite the numerous rival attractions at the multi-stage 1234 Festival.

Timing is on their side. They've been making music stateside for five years, but the berserk electro frenzy of their first UK release, "Noise Won't Stop", has arrived just in time to chime with the New Rave movement and it's worked out nicely for them: they've been used on a trailer for Grand Theft Auto 4, supported The Klaxons on tour and Muse at Wembley. Maybe their antennae unconsciously sensed something in the ether. But you have to be careful with things like that: I'm sure it's not deliberate, but their song "Summer" sounds like "We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel. And there's never an excuse for that.

Copyright 2007 Independent Newspapers UK Limited. All rights owned or operated by The Independent.
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.