But by the time it ended with a rollicking finale in which the entire cast and backstage staff as well as some members of the audience danced to the driving beat of Junoon accompanying Abida Parveen, there was no doubt the show had been a rousing success. And in a venue that seats over 5000 people, this was no mean achievement.

I must confess that I had been reluctant to part with ?40 for the evening, but was shamed by my wife and friends to cough up. In any event, one was glad to have been allowed to be persuaded, if only to see Naheed Siddiqui performing her Kathak magic, as her opening appearance repaid me amply. Naheed retains the ability to establish her presence with a crisp stamp of her foot. Each hand movement is imbued with grace, and her sense of timing remains impeccable. She is a phenomenal dancer. Let me quote the Guardian dance critic about one of her performances: "This is a dance of mesmerizing grace and control. Once you've seen Siddiqui move, you really don't want to watch anyone else."

The other acts were uneven, as is inevitable in such an expansive and ambitious programme. The backdrop was crisp and clever, using still and moving projections to excellent effect. A few botched cues and uncomfortable pauses told us the show had been under-rehearsed, but this was probably unavoidable, given the logistical nightmare putting it all together must have been. The miracle was that there were no major fiascos.

The show's weakest link was the contrast between the two hosts: the wit and stage presence Art Malik brought to the show was in a different class to Atiqa Odho's plodding delivery. But both were shackled to the pedestrian script which went on and on relentlessly about 'The river Indus, rising from the pristine mountains of the Himalayas, weaving its way down the geographical length of Pakistan to rest gently in the warm waters of the Arabian Sea.' Clearly, the organizers had assumed there would be lots of non-Pakistanis in the audience who needed to be informed about the country. In the event, nearly 95 per cent of the audience were of desi origin.

Art Malik was clearly bored by the clich?aden words he was forced to mouth, but whenever he attempted to break free and ad lib, he was firmly pulled back to the official line by pretty, prissy Ms Odho.

In the three segments relating to Pakistani fashion, the young models displayed some lovely clothes. Rizwan Beyg's cool, contemporary outfits showed his ease with global trends, while Nilofer Shahid, Faiza Samee, Deepak Perwani and Sonya Battla were equally comfortable with stylish colours and fabrics from the West. I do hope the Pakistan High Commission was able to persuade some top garment buyers to come to the show.

Until last week, I had never heard Junoon live, and had often wondered what all the fuss was about. Now I know. The boundless energy and relentless drive they bring to their music is infectious and it is no wonder so many members of the audience stood up to dance during their performance. And no wonder, too, that General Musharraf stood up while they were ending a number and signalled for them to continue. Ali Azmat, the vocalist of the group, was a memorable figure with his clean-shaved pate and uninhibited forays up and down the stage. Salman Ahmed on the lead guitar was hugely innovative while Brian O'Connell steadied the group on the bass guitar.

Compared to the polished professionalism of Junoon, Strings and Fuzon looked and sounded almost amateurish in their earnest numbers. Bilal Maqsood's brooding good looks and sound guitar technique made it seem like he was out of place in the re-born Strings. Abrar's fulsome public praise for Gen Musharraf was misplaced: perhaps he thought he was performing on PTV. Indeed, his tame performance made it hard to believe that it was his electrifying talent that gave us Billo de ghar.

Representing Pakistan's rich folk music was Lahore's Papoo Saeein on the dhol; Balochistan's Akhtar Chunar Zehri and Bhit Shah's Soung Faqirs. Papoo Saeein was much applauded as he played the dhol with a mixture of complete mastery and controlled passion. He is a well-known shrine drummer and it is easy to see how his mesmerizing beat can put devotees into a trance. Zehri's clear, uninhibited voice resounded in Albert Hall's vast spaces and his traditional outfit did not seem out of place. For me, the Soung Faqirs were a big disappointment as I know what magic they are capable of. Having seen them perform in their natural habitat in Bhit Shah years ago, I was expecting them to bring the audience to its feet with their shuffling dance and mystic singing. But perhaps they were daunted by the setting or not primed on their substance of choice. In any case, they seemed chained to the spot they stood on, and their performance was tame and unpolished.

Abida Perveen brought the house down and the crowd to its feet with her haunting voice and riveting stage presence. I have heard her live many times and never cease to be amazed by her artistry and the superb control she has achieved. At the end of her performance, the entire cast and backstage staff came out to dance to the music as all of us stood and clapped.

A memorable evening made possible by financial support from the Bestway Group and an original concept from the energetic Abdul Kader Jaffer, Pakistan's High Commissioner to the UK.