Clouds of smoke swirl around a large old concert grand piano, heavily encrusted with the impedimenta of electronic amplification as Julian Layn, pianist, composer and visionary, begins his "project" without any further enlightenment.

His Fringe programme started with his own compositions on a specially-prepared instrument. The music is heavy with hugely vibrating arpeggiated ripples in the bass and an almost hypnotic steady beat.

It may have sprung from a classical training, but it is a very long way distant from the familiar piano repertoire of the 18th to 20th century and although his keyboard technique appears to be competent at worst and brilliant at best, it’s difficult to appreciate amid thumping rhythms and sonic booms.

Yet many of the sounds are strangely compelling. There is an echoing appeal and an almost instinctive attraction to the powerful bass vibrations – but there was insufficient melodic interest or harmonic development to sustain individual attention beyond a certain point.

His last composition featured a syncopated rhythm and a sparkier treble score which revived a slightly flagging interest.

Wonderful music as background for street scenes or film scores, less wonderful for concentrated listening in a small hall.