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Forget the fact that the average age of a Leonard Cohen audience makes a trip to the gents rather like a visit to a prostate clinic.

Forget, too, that at nearly 80 the pencil-thin Cohen moves with an old man’s lack of ease and increasingly resembles Jack Straw’s grandad.

What matters is that the gig he performed in Birmingham – lasting three hours and with repeated encores – shows an artist of extraordinary talent, invention, verve and relevance.

This was no singalong-with-Lenny tribute, but a vibrant and contemporary showcase of Cohen’s material performed by a set of musicians of great virtuosity.

Cohen interacts with his audience in a way that manages to transform even a cavernous, soulless space such as the NEC into somewhere intimate and special.

He chats easily, shares a few jokes and treats his fellow performers with courtesy and respect, remaining as still as a statue as they stand in the spotlight.

His voice is deeper than ever – here growling, there almost sonorous.

It works fantastically well with the sublime, honeyed harmonies of his long-time collaborator Sharon Robinson and the exquisite sisters Charley and Hattie Webb.