Pussyfooting performance

Anyone misguidedly paying that sum expecting spectacle was ripped off, for Marshall appeared alone on the barest stage I have ever seen at a large concert - adorned only with an upright piano, stool, two microphones and a chair.

Similarly, those expecting faithful renditions of tracks from Marshall's five acclaimed albums were also to be disappointed. She preferred to improvise, flitting around songs without ever seeming to settle.

She began in a playful mood, spouting amiable nonsense and blowing raspberries. Mostly she sang while playing just two chords, back and

forth, on guitar or piano. Sometimes her husky, damaged voice made the experience hypnotic; sometimes it was plain dull.

An interpretation of the skeletally beautiful Maybe Not, from her marvellous, most recent album, You Are Free, was a spellbinding high point. However, as the evening wore on she seemed to stop trying altogether, dropping songs before they had properly begun, briefly sketching melodies before meandering off in another direction.

At one point she insisted the house lights be raised to blinding levels while her stage lights were switched off and she sat in the darkness. As a piece of role reversal it was irritating rather than clever.

When the venue played music over the Tannoy, forcing the show to end while Marshall was still on stage, it was an appropriately shambolic conclusion to a frustrating evening.

Cat Power