Natacha Atlas enters the stage in the cosy surroundings of the Pigalle Club very discretely. Some seated diners are still finishing off their lemon tart with ice cream on top. Only after the first number does the crowd's almost delirious affection for her become apparent. Extended applause, whoops and a few continental 'La, la, Natacha!'s.

Running through new material, much of which is introduced by her 'musical director', it's apparent that she has gone back to a more stripped down, traditional set. Sorrowful, almost gypsy-esque, and peppered with acoustic guitars, accordion and violin, the sound is also rich and measured. Althogh heavily syncopated, it never breaks free into true eastern rumbustiousness. At one point they do an incredible, restrained cover of Black Is The Colour (Of My True Love's Hair), an old Appalachian folk song from the early 20th century.

In the second half, after a break "to take more drugs", they return to older material. Atlas seems more confident during this part ofthe show. Her voice swoops and trills, a magnificent instrument. At the end she even does a bit if belly dancing to the crazed accompaniment of rattling bongos.