RORY McLEOD is a one-man world music factory.

Travelling the globe for inspiration, he absorbs different languages, cultures and rhythms to compose songs and tunes about what it means to be human.

He played a selection of them at the Black Swan, Peasholme Green, York, last night, with tremendous energy, passion and consummate musical skill. He even changed the key of several compositions to accommodate his sore throat.

Bad cold or not, McLeod's notes still soared through the pub's upstairs room, thrilling a capacity audience.

Wearing tap shoes, he stamped out a hypnotic beat on a wooden board wired for sound, while playing potent finger-style guitar.

His virtuosity on harmonica was astounding, playing a klezmer tune that conjured up images of Jewish festivities and a number called Miners Picket Dance, complete with police sirens. He also played spoons and produced a trombone, bought for £50 from a Leeds pawn shop, for his encore.

London Kisses takes the listener on a stream-of-consciousness tour of the metropolis; What Would Jesus Do? is McLeod's defiant answer to a right-wing radio phone-in presenter in the Bible Belt of America; and The Dreams We Breathe Through is a candid view of love and divorce. McLeod creates art out of ordinary lives, weaving the magical musical tales of a true troubadour. But injustice makes the fire in his belly burn brightly. No More Blood For Oil is a powerful indictment of the American-led invasion of Iraq.

Updated: 11:29 Friday, May 27, 2005