From the distant shores of experimental 1960s British rock to the seething waters of contemporary improvised jazz, Elton Dean's journey has been a long and intriguing one. His understated yet authoritative saxophone has provided a lead voice for such genre-straddling acts as Soft Machine and Ninesense, as well finding a home in musical collaborations with Alexis Korner, Alan Skidmore and Keith Tippett. In Leeds, Dean's current trio continued their leader's dogged 30-year quest by defiantly making a huge racket in front of a handful of people and eliciting a somewhat mixed response.

The first half of the show was hard work, with drummer Mark Sanders and double-bass player John Edwards beating us over the head with death-defying acts of virtuosity. The steamrolling power was relentless, but somehow the band missed its target - if indeed it had one. Improvised music is principally not about melody, rhythm or harmony but about generating and swapping vast amounts of energy, and in this sense the performance was faultless. However, a distressing lack of space and sunshine quickly became evident, with none of the instruments quite managing to tell a story.

Dean is an unassuming figure, and sometimes his tastefully restrained playing was in danger of being overwhelmed by the agitated and impersonal clatter of his rhythm section. The three instruments played non-stop for over half an hour, somehow succeeding in roaring as a whole while simultaneously trying to break away from each other's tangled orbit.

Some members of the audience appeared glum, and most looked pensive. One restless soul at the back of the room did his best to instigate a round of applause whenever the noise thinned out slightly, but no one took his cue, and it was only a matter of time before we were plunged once more into the seething hurricane.

Salvation beckoned in the second half as spaces were finally left open, and one truly thrilling groove was established by Sanders's belated decision to quit his tom-toms and stick to the bare-bone jazz essentials of cymbals and bass drum - played at breakneck speed, of course.

Now we could stop wringing our hands and properly enjoy Edwards's almost comical assault on his double bass, his performance winding up more physical than musical.

Eventually, Dean's vastly accomplished ensemble hit the spot and everyone was happy - apart from the cowards who left at the interval.