I don't know what past masters of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra would have thought of their string section playing Jimi Hendrix.

But it earned Nigel Kennedy the second standing ovation of the evening as he and the 16-strong Das Collegium - all paid-up members of the world-famous Berlin Philharmonic - ended with an encore of Kennedy's own arrangement of Purple Haze.

His first standing ovation had come when he ended his virtually all-Vivaldi concert with The Four Seasons.

This was Kennedy's return home to the Dome after almost 12 years away.

As he ambled on to the stage waving his £1 million violin, an 18th-Century Guanerini, he casually remarked on Brighton and Hove Albion's promotion to the First Division.

It brought a laugh, a cheer and united the audience, which included many young people eager to see their scruffy, football-loving hero in action.

And action was what they got. Forget the wild haircut - greying a bit now - forget the boots, the silvery-black suit, the open-neck shirt, the foot-stomping and the bizarre dancing.

What they got was certainly the best violinist of his generation doing what he does best: Playing the fiddle and communicating the music straight to the heart.

And, in my case, he brought the music direct to the brain as well, overturning all my prejudices against Vivaldi, whom I usually dismiss as writing the same piece of music 500 times.

Kennedy proved that Vivaldi still has a great deal to say and that an expert interpreter can get to all the nuances and inner worlds the master of music in the Baroque era could convey.

Starting with a C-minor concerto for two violins and going on through a D-major and a D-minor concerto for the same orchestration, Kennedy painted superb geometrical pictures to die for.

His wild, exuberant enthusiasm is infectious. Yes, he stamps his feet, does curious jumps, makes lunges like a fencing master and sometimes dances like a demented penguin.

But none of this gets in the way of the music, which comes at you in a straight line from fingers and bow arm and simply pierces the soul.

As well as a fine fiddler, Kennedy is a great showman. His dancing and his foot-stomping is part of that and so was his Mockney ribbing of a trio of latecomers for whom he repeated the first movement of the concerto they had missed.

There is something about this man who can so easily make you enthuse about what he is doing.

Sure, I understand why the Establishment is uneasy. When Brighton boy Kennedy is around, the classical music world is no longer so cosy or comfortable, it becomes surprisingly accessible and even a little dangerous.

And so to The Four Seasons, by way of two short pieces from Bela Bartok.

It was his recording of The Four Seasons that made his name and propelled him into the Guinness Book of Records for selling two million copies so quickly.

It was magnificently done, performed, as it were, at the extreme edge.

This was no polite rendering, this was fast, furious, also gentle and exquisite, as well as being gutsy and full of verve and vigour.

And he makes it all look so damn easy. Nigel, come back soon.