Natalie Merchant's first live solo album, recorded at the Neil Simon Theatre on Broadway last June, is a curious beast. In her choice of material Merchant has largely steered clear of both her most recent accomplishments (only the title track from her last album, Ophelia, is included) and her 10,000 Maniacs days.

As a result, save for the inclusion of three covers, Live In Concert is essentially Tigerlily Live In Concert. This, in itself, is no bad thing :Tigerlily was a great record and 'Wonder', 'San Andreas Fault' and 'Seven Years' all stand up well in performance. 'Wonder' is especially notable, being driven along by a punchy rhythm section, while Merchant's breathy delivery of the line "I must be one of the wonders" makes her come across like a more detached Chrissie Hynde circa 'Brass In Pocket'.

For all that, it is the covers which intrigue the most. Bowie's 'Space Oddity' is not quite so incongruous as it might first appear. 10,000 Maniacs, after all, boast a version of 'Starman' amongst their back catalogue, and here Merchant's vocal is every bit as otherworldly as the Thin White Duke's original.

Little, unfortunately, is added to Neil Young's 'After The Goldrush', but the most impressive of the three covers is, paradoxically, the least well known. Yes, its royalties-a-go-go for Katell Keineg, whose simultaneously pained and wondrous 'The Gulf Of Araby' is delivered hauntingly well. Merchant again makes few radical alterations, save for additional splashes of keyboard, but the calibre of the song and the musicianship of Merchant's band are enough in themselves to make this a standout.

The band are sympathetic and vibrant, save for the odd lapse into something disconcertingly close to FM Rock guitar. Natalie, meanwhile, proves to any still-lingering doubters that she is an outstanding singer. The elasticity of the vocals on 'San Andreas Fault' and the yearning 'Beloved Wife' (the best track on the album) is sublime.

Live In Concert isn't going to push out the boundaries of the genre. Neverthless, for the most part, this is near-perfect 'hours of darkness' listening: sometimes forlorn, often fragile, touching on beauty.