And now for something completely different. After the high drama of the Edinburgh International Festival's opera programme comes an angry young man wiv attitude. Yes, Music Theatre Wales has brought its production of Mark-Anthony Turnage's Greek to the Traverse Theatre.

From Eddy's first appearance, at the back of the audience, haranguing anyone in the audience still speaking, the tale of Oedipus unfolds inexorably. Told in a mixture of demotic and aureate language, with a similar range in the musical registers, this version based on Steven Berkoff's play takes place in the East End of London, in a time of plague. There are riots and heavy-handed/booted police tactics, portrayed both on stage and on film, the orchestra banging their riot shields; so, just like now, then.

The action, directed by Michael McCarthy, takes place on a narrow strip at the front of the stage, the rest of which is taken up by the orchestra. Using four white plastic chairs, two round white plastic tables, and a plasma screen telly, it is amazing what a variety of locations can be portrayed in Simon Banham's design.

Marcus Farnsworth is an impressive Eddy, his voice equally at home in the aggressive passages as the lyrical love-songs. He creates a convincing and endearing Jack the Lad persona, capable of the violent and pointless killing of the café owner, but also of the tender love-scenes with his wife.

Gwion Thomas has a very mobile and expressive face as well as an agile voice, and his contortions as he explains to his son both the fortuneteller's story and, later, the truth about his parentage, well convey the inarticulacy of the character. As his wife, Sally Silver is sufficiently mouse-like, mouthing platitudes; as the Sphinx with Louise Winter, her mouth smeared with lipstick and in blond wig she is like a parody transvestite, whereas Winter bears a resemblance to Loretta Swit's Hotlips character in M*A*S*H.

Winter is excellent as Eddy's wife,. Her lament for her dead husband - its lyricism belying the vulgarity of its lyrics - is reminiscent (dare I say it) of Nancy's paean to Bill Sykes in Oliver! Her sadness relating the loss of her baby, her horror when she realises Eddy is her son, are as real as her clear passion for the man.

As an ensemble, the singers present the opera with a verve which is matched by the orchestra, conducted by Michael Rafferty. Lyrical or discordant, there is an immediacy about this performance which draws and holds the audience's attention.

When, at the end, Eddy does the Oedipus thing of putting his eyes out, lies down on the stage and is lamented by his nearest an dearest, it is inevitable. But he rises, says 'Well, bollocks to that' and instead sings of how he would rather get back inside his wife and there is almost relief at the happy ending. Then he storms off into the audience again, leaving his nearest and dearest to, well, walk off into the wings from whence they came.