I'm not quite sure why Anthony Kiedis bothered to put on his multicoloured frock coat. It certainly wasn't to keep warm. The atmosphere in Koko was positively volcanic even before the Red Hot Chili Peppers appeared on stage at this exclusive Radio 1 showcase. Highlights are due to be broadcast during Zane Lowe's show on 12 September from 7pm to 9pm, but a radio airing will convey only a miniscule fraction of the zip of this age-defying band.

While obviously not as seismic a Top of the Pops moment as Ziggy singing “Starman”, the almost contemporaneous appearance of the flat-capped Gilbert O’Sullivan hunched over his piano as if it were a dying coal fire certainly stuck in my memory as clearly as Bowie’s androgynous space-age carrot-top. Although the flat cap was quickly ditched in favour of casual knitwear and even a hairy chest phase (see pic below), today’s 64-year-old Mr O’Sullivan feels that his fate in the shape of his image was sealed all those decades ago, and he’s been fighting ever since to transcend it.

In a black dress, Caro Emerald is playing her UK debut. Behind her, an eight-piece band is squeezed onto the Jazz Café’s small stage. Snappy and pin sharp, they’re in black suits, white shirts and black ties. Except the guitarist, who’s jacket-free. Three brass players are ranged behind music stands. Nothing is overstated. Emerald races through her jazz-grounded pop, the rumba-ish “A Night Like This” ending a set that filters filmic swing through a current pop sensibility.

Luke Haines, Cabaret Voltaire ****

If the cards had fallen differently Luke Haines might have been as big as Blur. As frontman of The Auteurs he was briefly tipped for Britpop greatness, so it is no surprise that he likes the idea of alternative histories. This special show, The North Sea Scrolls, was all about them, as Haines, former Microdisney linchpin Cathal Coughlan, writer Andrew Mueller and cellist Audrey Riley mixed spoken word with punchy lo-fi melodies.

Adam Riches, Pleasance Courtyard ****

From the moment Adam Riches bursts onto the stage, spewing his business cards around as a manic showbiz agent who wants to sign up everyone and everything - including even the venue's walls and floor - this is a show of hyper energy and absurdist comedy.

"Anyone for Demis?" wasn’t the only question posed by this trawl through some of the foreign – not American - popular music that’s been hugged to our collective bosom. That the large, hirsute, kaftan-shrouded Greek wonder that’s Demis Roussos was popular is obvious. He landed in the Top 10 in 1975 with “Happy to be on an Island in the Sun” and became a chart regular for the next two years. Everyone was for Demis. The other poser was the self-cancelling, “Now that pop music’s gone global, has the appeal of the foreign pop song gone forever?”

The Cave Singers, Cabaret Voltaire ****

A three-piece hailing from Seattle and its environs, The Cave Singers are an authentically hairy proposition. With his tweed hat and red beard, at this Edge festival gig singer Pete Quirk looked like a cross between the late Robin Cook and a stray leprechaun from Finian’s Rainbow, while Derek Fudesco dispensed his lovely, liquid guitar lines from beneath a blur of flying hair.

“Wynton Marsalis has had an enormous impact on jazz over the last 40 years,” say the programme notes, “being one of the first artists to perform and compose across the full jazz spectrum from its New Orleans roots to bebop to modern jazz.” Although it seems to bestow an extra precociousness upon the American trumpeter, who was only born in 1961, the first part of that sentence is undoubtedly true. The second part is true too, until the last two words.

Jackie Leven, Cabaret Voltaire ****

Something seems to have shifted in Jackie Leven’s life. About six stone, to be precise. At the Edge Festival show the Fife-born folk-blues-soul troubadour was, almost literally, half the man he used to be: the rotund, Rabelaisian figure of old was dramatically slimmed down and sipped water rather than, as at a recent Edinburgh gig, glugged from a bottle of white wine. Perhaps it’s the side effect of a bladder infection he told us (a little too much) about, and which necessitated a “comfort break” halfway through. Or perhaps, at 61, this notoriously hard-living man is finally looking after himself.

Something seems to have shifted in Jackie Leven’s life. About six stone, to be precise. At the Edge Festival show the Fife-born folk-blues-soul troubadour was, almost literally, half the man he used to be: the rotund, Rabelaisian figure of old was dramatically slimmed down and sipped water rather than, as at a recent Edinburgh gig, glugged from a bottle of white wine. Perhaps it’s the side effect of a bladder infection he told us (a little too much) about, and which necessitated a “comfort break” halfway through. Or perhaps, at 61, this notoriously hard-living man is finally looking after himself.

These days Teddy Thompson seems entirely his own man. In fact, mentioning his family connections seems almost gratuitous. Last night, however, the son of Richard and Linda shared the evening with sister Kami and nephew Zak for a family knees-up before a devoted crowd. And, for the most part, they all seemed to be having a thoroughly good time.