It was a diverse mix of people who attended Bert Jansch's first concert at St Bride's this year. First generation folk revivalists sat next to obsessive teenage guitar aficionados, while eccentrically clad rockers (recently turned songwriters) were as in evidence as the settled down middle-aged (and middle-class) hippies.

The fascinating aspect about this concert was that the sheer weight of this man's reputation combined with the awe that he seems to inspire. Both of these factors made the atmosphere in the concert almost tense, exceptionally silent and strikingly reverential. In part this was down to Jansch's reserved stage persona, throughout the concert he only spoke three or four times to any extent, and even then in a very shy fashion. However he continually smiled up at the raked seating, in acknowledgments tinged with humility at his audience's disciple like behaviour.

Seeing other legendary folk artists, such as Richard Thompson, John Martyn or Dick Gaughan, was an entirely different experience. On all three occasions, audience members would shout out requests from down the years, and generally whoop and holler when their favourites emerged. However in the case of Jansch there is a weighty silence, to the extent that every note seems to enthral. Even this often cynical reviewer felt entirely absorbed during a definitive rendition of Jackson C Frank's 'Blues Run the Game'.

Another very rare characteristic this guitarist has is a musical ability that seems to have barely diminished over the years. Many artists at his stage become something like their own tribute band: relying on the fact that most of their audience will be sufficiently pleased to be able to say they have seen them, and will regard their actual enjoyment of the live performance as secondary to simply being there.

In testament to this my favourite song of the evening was 'The Auld Triangle' with its traditional Irish melody and lyrics by Brendan Behan. The song features on Jansch's 2006 album 'The Black Swan', but was learned during his early days on the Edinburgh folk scene of the 1960s, and brings all of his powers to the fore.

Jansch retains his sparkling talent of making his guitar the lead instrument throughout every song, an ability that can only really be appreciated when seeing him live. His voice is very much a secondary instrument, and serves to accompany his fretwork more than anything else. This results in a thoroughly exciting performance, that is far from predictable, even during the more well known songs.

Yet in part the joy of watching Bert Jansch is very simple, and is true of any good performance; seeing someone immersed, unpretentious and indifferent; doing what they love to do.