Joanna Newsom at Somerset House

If ever a venue could upstage an act, Somerset House on a summer evening has to be up there with the best of them. Nu-folk heroine Joanna Newsom is no stranger to lavish venues – when she walked onstage at the Royal Albert Hall last September, dwarfed and alone, it took at least ten minutes and a lot of deep breaths for her hands and voice to stop shaking. The courtyard of an 18th century royal palace would be easy by comparison; not that Red Krayola were much help in support. In their 42nd year of recording, the self-proclaimed 'longest-lived underground psychedelic avant-garde rock act' had gangs of the oh so middle class crowd chatting loudly by the bar in protest. They share the same label as Newsom, but comparisons stop there.

By the time she appeared in a flowing pastel gown the gangs had simmered down to silence and the first chimes of the clock tower rang the hour in synch with her opening notes; which by one of those magic chances just so happened to be perfectly in tune. For most acts a crowd held in utter silence would be a bad thing, but the softness of Newsom's sound and the beauty of her compositions had most eyes closed. Her voice, shrill and jarring to many, is far more suited to live performance, and to witness the mastery of her instrument first-hand is undeniably engrossing.

The set took in both albums and some new piano-based material that draws on a more blues/country sound. 'The Y's numbers without orchestral accompaniment bring out the strength of her song writing all-the-better, but without backing of any kind some of the longer numbers can drag. No encore, but no one seemed to mind, a long pause followed every song with a collective sigh and we drifted out onto the Thames to stroll and hum and sigh some more.