Having acquired a large collection of Miles Davis's paintings for their gallery, the arts programmers of the Brewery Arts Centre had the bright idea of inviting his distinguished biographer to open the exhibition, give a little talk and play a little music.

Ian Carr is a remarkable scholar, both a literary and musical chronicler of the life and work of his hero, and he has spent as much time playing the man's music as he has documenting his life.

Even so, Carr is so different from the enigmatically smouldering Davis that trying to compare them is liable to raise a chuckle. Resembling a bumbling, retired headmaster, he talked us through a narrow cross-section of Davis's career, played a few tapes and almost bubbled over with excitement explaining that what came out of Miles's trumpet was always "pure love".

When it came to the musical part of the evening it was astonishing to discover that Carr had agreed to do this gig Chuck Berry style, with a pick-up quintet introduced to him at three o'clock that afternoon. Having already warned us that he has spent most of his life "succeeding in failing" to re-create the luminous quality of Davis's trumpet, Carr turned in a solid, respectable performance. His playing was very like him - not always sure of itself, but full of sincerity and warmth.

Of course, it always helps to have a good band, and in this respect Carr fell on his feet. The almost barrel-house piano of Gerry Richardson and the stinging guitar lines of Malcolm MacFarlane evoked the bluesy side of Miles, while the propulsive rhythm section kept the cabaret atmosphere at bay.

Ultimately, Carr was the victim of a problem he no doubt saw coming a hundred miles away. It is impossible to do justice to a career as darkly multifaceted as Davis's by simply whipping through the most accessible numbers from the "classic Columbia" years.

The choice of material was consciously conservative - there was nothing here from Bitches Brew - and Carr was clearly more interested in Davis the sweet-blowing trumpeter than Davis the visionary leveller of musical boundaries.

However, a pleasant sounding "greatest hits" show was really all anyone could have hoped for in this under- rehearsed situation and while there was none of the artistic risk-taking that formed the essential nub of Davis's career, the combination of bubbly lecture and respectful recital made for a gently agreeable evening.