When Kula Shaker drowned in a torrent of media mockery shortly before the dawn of the millennium, it seemed the world had heard the last of Krishna consciousness piercing the top end of the charts on albums sounding like Jesus Christ Superstar.

But ten years after the phenomenal success of debut album K, Crispian Mills - whose suicidally naive witterings and famously thespian parentage gifted his critics victory - is back, joss sticks and all.

His band was the mainstream antidote to the witless laddishness of their Britpop contemporaries, and now they reckon the world needs saving again.

Such lofty ambitions could easily have dissolved into little more than a brief comeback reminiscent of any number of Nineties bands currently cashing in their last paychecks.

But their largely soldout tour has displayed a freshness worthy of genuine excitement.

Whether anyone will listen, let alone find salvation, will depend on the band's ability to replace their hits from a decade ago with material strong enough to give them a contemporary relevance.

Attempted live, tracks from new EP Revenge Of The King shuffled in awkward shyness around old classics such as Hey Dude and Sound Of Drums, and have evoked apparent record label indifference.

This low-key existence is one they feel more comfortable with but they remain as intoxicating live as ever.

Mills still provides a masterclass in Stratocaster riffs, his blond mop of hair bouncing as he leapt around to his bygone creations.

Alonza Bevan, Mills's partner in crime for more than 15 years, played bass like a man possessed, his stunning collection of hippy shirts returning triumphantly.

Reunited with drummer Paul Winterhart, the ex-schoolmates have lost none of the balance between polish and thrilling edginess they always had, although the departure of hairy organ grinder Jay to Oasis is a tragic consequence of their hiatus.

If they can continue this form when they record their new album in September, their revenge may be sweet.