Toumani Diabate, Bristol, 2nd Nov 11

Cracking gig by Toumani accompanied by drums, guitar and bass, a combination I've not seen him use before. He seems to be getting more and more cerebral with every album and every gig, truly pushing back the boundaries of his instrument but by doing so possibly sacrificing emotion for technique, but the musical fireworks equalled anything to be heard next weekend.

I love the way he builds a whole composition from the bare minimum of an idea - I can never listen to him and not think of Bach - I've said it before but it's true. On the night, Toumani can be legitimately called the greatest musician on the planet, whatever the genre - this was one such night.

Sain Zahoor, Bristol 5th October

Bit of a strange one, this - I'd not seen the famous Sufi musician before and being a bit of a Qawwali fan, I was looking forward to an evening of trance-inducing music. True he has a great voice, but he really has just a couple of tunes. His music is beguiling but fairly predictable, never seeming to ascend to intense spiritual heights - there is a lack of light and shade. The concert was over by 9.20, which was probably about right. He would go down a storm late at night in the Siam Tent but this gig lacked atmosphere even though the largely Pakistani audience were reasonably enthusiastic (and refreshingly friendly!)

See No Evil, Saturday 20 August

For a city council to sanction an international show of graffiti by allowing a whole street to be garishly daubed asks many questions about the meaning and consumption of art. Isn’t graffiti supposed to be transgressive? Aren’t street artists politically-inspired and subversive outlaws? Not any more it seems.

See No Evil, a kind of festival of graffiti, powerfully demonstrates this journey from deemed wanton vandalism to acceptance by the art and political establishment. It opened on Saturday with sound-systems blaring and ugly buildings transformed by vibrant colours. So many images adorn the walls in the grim Nelson Street area. A towering pin-stripe-suited and bowler-hatted city gent brandishes a spilling tin of paint. A monumental fox gazes into the sky. A woman and her baby stare into nothingness, or do they stare at us? A bird perches on the hand of a Magritte-like figure with a bird-cage as a head. Then of course there’s the incongruous spectacle of street artists actually creating their works while you watch as opposed to doing a quick spray-job and being chased out of town by the police. On one level it is the perfect riposte to the vandalism of town planners who so disfigured Bristol city centre in the 1960s, on another it is a self-conscious gesture by today’s street artists that graffiti has come of age even if it has lost its subversive subtext.

The case against any kind of street art is that it is merely decorative or illustrative and that it aspires to the condition of commercial art (oh the irony!) It is mere kitsch, and therefore anathema to Greenbergian notions of the avant-garde. Its subject-matter seems infantile, relying on a comic-book aesthetic and a manga state of mind. Some of it can be witty, of course, juxtaposing unlikely images to make a political point, but as such it becomes no more than graphic sloganeering.

I like graffiti, but great as this show is, it completely misunderstands why street art exists at all. Graffiti is defined by its impermanence. Like land art, where a photograph may be the only record of a vanished physical object, graffiti is prey to change and extinction. It’s a willing victim of a kind of urban Darwinism, covered by subsequent and perhaps more sophisticated versions of itself. So for a city council to promote and preserve street art is a bizarre thing indeed. This show succeeds in at least demonstrating the diversity of street art practice in the world today - there are artists from Europe, the UK and the USA - but this is an essentially emasculated version of graffiti however entertaining, dramatic and thought-provoking it may be.

A Day at Womad 30 July 11

I only could manage a day at Womad this year - here are my impressions of the acts I saw:

Hassan Erraji's MoRoccan Rollers - a good start to the day with high energy North African grooves and some entertaining Oud-playing. Hassan must be the Jimi Hendrix of his instrument, playing it in all sorts of positions and with a real percussive attack.

Khaira Arby Never seen her before, but this Malian singer was pretty impressive and really held the open air stage. Some fine guitar-playing in her band.

Shunsuke Kimura & Etsuro Ono Some great Shamisen-playing and a nice ambience.

Faiz Ali Faiz My annual Qawwli fix was provided by a great singer and his equally impressive vocalists and percussionists. A glorious highlight of the day.

Samuel Yirga Pristine Ethiopian chamber jazz from the young pianist and his group. Lovely sax solos too. I would have loved it just as much if I hadn't had that nice pint of Bounders cider.

Vieux Farka Toure This was OK but frankly there was not enough light and shade in his guitar-playing and the set relied too much on some musical cliches. File under rock with a pinch of desert blues.

Aurelio Far and away the best act of my day, and one of the great performances I've seen recently. Beautifully-controlled changes in tempo and irresistible sultry vibes. Aurelio's guitarist, an unassuming Peter Kay lookalike, turned out to be a genius, playing at least one gorgeous and miraculous solo. Unforgettable.

Las Balkanieras Oh dear oh dear. A dreadful sub-Eurovision mess, They should watch more of the song contest and perhaps they'll improve.

Axel Krygier Extraordinary and surreal. What I saw and heard defies description. If insane dancy electronica, pantomime humour and extrovert showmanship are your bag, he's your man. If you don't like any of those things, he's still great.

Miró at Tate Modern 11 June 11

I finally got round to seeing this exhibition today - a stunning and comprehensive show which sheds new light on this giant of Surrealism. It was fascinating to see the development of his art from early figurative Catalan rustic scenes to the abstract masterpieces we are so familiar with. However, nothing can prepare you for the brilliance of his canvases and the saturated colours and ambiguous shapes that assault you as you enter the dozen or so rooms in the exhibition.

Gazing at his canvases, you become aware of repeated symbols and recurring thematic preoccupations and yet these never become monotonous or predictable. Paradoxically, they serve to empasise Miró's versatility as an artist because the symbols appear within radically diverse contexts. The most fascinating works for me are the burnt canvases, where Miró has entered a partnership with a destructive and fearsome elemental force. The result of this 'collaboration' is an unlikely blend of the planned and the contingent. Charred and jagged voids appear in the centre of the canvases, which are suspended in the middle of the room so you can walk around them and see them from all sides. They have effectively become sculptures. His most beautiful paintings are undoubtedly the 'constellation' series - dazzling and intense - many of which are represented here.

My view of Miró has shifted radically after seeing this exhibition. I thought of him as apolitical but this show emphasises his sense of Catalan identity and committed stance against Franco. His unsettling but beautiful paintings bear witness to an age of violence and anxiety we can only guess at. A very fine show.

Staff Benda Bilili, Colston Hall, 20 May 11

This is a bit of a Goldilocks story. The first time I saw this band was in a club - too small. The next time I saw them it was on the Open Air stage at Womad - too big. Today I saw them at a medium-sized concert hall - just right, and SBB really are getting better all the time. When the band first burst upon the world music scene, some oh-so-cool critics said that beneath the gimmickry, SBB were just an average rumba outfit, but that is very far from the truth. For a start, theirs is one of the best rhythm sections of any band I've heard in ages. They sing sweetly and their songs are memorable. Their stage presence is obviously remarkable, and when they do some of their hell-for-leather rocking-out numbers, their music is nothing short of transcendental. The sticking point for many is the sound of the satonge - you either love it or hate it - but it doesn't dominate and was played quite sparingly tonight. SBB played a long set with a generous encore, and a packed Colston Hall loved 'em.

The support was excellent - Malian diva Fatoumata Diawara, who did a solo set of beautifully measured songs accompanied by her lovely guitar-playing. She reminded me very much of Nahawa Doumbia, and I can't think of a better recommendation than that.

Last Days of the Arctic: Capturing the Faces of the North

What a night on BBC4 - Noggin the Nog, early Doctor Who, Julia Bradbury striding along the Birmingham to Worcester canal in the rain and...best of all....photographer Ragnar Axelsson's utterly beautiful images flickering across my screen. Axelsson's documentary is a meditation on disappearing lifestyles and changing landscapes. His photos are truly extraordinary. Intensely Biblical faces appear at the corners of bleak snowscapes, their skin like fissured bark on ancient trees. They all look proud and sad and old, looking beyond the camera; seemingly focussed, like the lens that returns their gaze, on infinity.

With a backdrop of shimmering music that perfectly suits the austerity of icy landscapes, this film follows hunters in Greenland, documents the violence of Icelandic volcanoes, records the memories and fears of aged men in a changing world. As Axelsson concludes, whatever happens to Nature in this place, it will always present an immense challenge to the people who share in its resources.

Do yourself a favour and watch this magnificent film.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0110ghk