Like a master puppeteer, Alex Paterson pulled the audience this way and that at the Concorde 2.

The man who is The Orb dragged people up to the ceiling of his crescendos and let them fall down to the dancefloor again.

As ever, Paterson's tingly mixture of chill-out beats and ambient house swept up all before him. The room moved with his tune.

It was a typically Orb-ish night. Dishevelled and scruffy movers took to the floor, leaving their clubbing counterparts, with white trainers and Ben Sherman shirts, happily downing lager on West Street.

Ironically, the kaleidoscopic visuals The Orb are renowned for could have led to the downfall of their final set.

The power went off about ten minutes before the end, as the band were mid-encore, apparently the result of too many lights and speakers plugged into the Concorde's system.

It made no difference. The party was all but over. Everyone had got their money's worth.

Eleven years have passed since The Orb ambled on to the scene, still dazed and muddy from the acid house parties which spawned them.

They were the band creating a musical genre from Little Fluffy Clouds, perpetual dawns and blue rooms. Paterson's music swirled around in your post-party head, softly, softly, painting a picture in your ears.

In an effort to describe his music, he once said: "You've been Orbed if you're sitting in a room and you get up to look out the window and you suddenly realise it was coming from the record."

Times, like his music, have moved on.

Saturday night sounded like a sublime mix of Ibiza, Dido and trance. Where Paterson once mixed bird twitters and a rustle of leaves into his tunes, he has found room for vocals and electronica.

Paterson's signature is still engraved on each element of The Orb.

The willingness and apparent desire to adapt, change and morph still seem to drive him forward. But where he once revelled in tearing up other people's rule books and writing his own, he now seems to have come full circle and has torn up The Orb's 1990 songsheets in favour of, well, something new.

A legend is not made in an album. Nor even two. The Orb's legacy is still uncemented.

But there is a restless thread running through his work, always ready for a fresh challenge, always seeing something undone, never satisfied.

Saturday epitomised that. The new album, Bicycles And Tricycles, will be released soon, no doubt wheeling Paterson off in a new direction once again.