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By name and by nature

Jewel has one of those life stories that sound almost too good to be true. Born in Alaska, on a homestead without running water and electricity, she moved to California, lived in a camper van, signed a record deal and sold ten million copies of her debut album in America - all before she had turned much more than 20. The only blip in the plot to date has been that her career has been considerably slower to take off in Britain.

Last year her second album, Spirit, confirmed her as arguably the most sparkling female singer-songwriter since Joni Mitchell, and her current tour should go a long way to establishing her here. On previous visits she had played solo but this time she has brought a five-piece band which added greater depth to her beguiling and seductive songs.

Her lyrics are sensitive and poetic, but the band served to emphasize that she also excels at radio-friendly pop melodies that are inventive and subtle and far more complex than the usual three-chord strum. Her voice moved from a piping little-girl-lost-treble to a mature vibrating resonance, not only in the course of the same song but even in the same phrase.

A solo slot with just her guitar showed that she is compelling in the Joan Baez troubadour role. Then the band returned and she slotted into rock babe mode every bit as convincingly as Sheryl Crow. Her diction was a delight - even on the hardest-edged numbers every word was crystal clear. A new song, Love Me or Just Leave Me Alone, has some wonderful Dylanesque lyrics, ending with the line: "Your sister was a stockbroker, but you ain't nothing but a turtleneck." There was also a transcendent version of her hit single Who Will Save Your Soul, with a vocal that was part gospel, part opera and totally Jewel before she returned for a second encore with some uninhibited yodelling.

"What's simple is true," she had sung earlier. It summed up the Jewel philosophy but the truth is, of course, that her appealing naturalness is also the result of serious craft. This was an exquisite performance.

The Alaskan goddess, who was brought up in a shoebox in the middle of the tundra, reflects all the great songs on Pieces Of You and Spirit and may even recite a bit of verse from her collection, A Night Without Armor, which is the biggest-selling poetry book ever! If you like the sight of grown men dissolving into gooey puddles then get ye down to the Gore.

Still yet to emulate her mega success Stateside, this is Kilcher's first London show with a full band.

Alaskan born Kilcher is possessed of a wonderful talent, only let down by a tendency for worthy self-celebration. Following up her ten million selling debut, her second album, 'Spirit' (Atlantic), more than consolidated her earlier promise. It is a work of rare depth and spiritual assurance, infusing the melodic grace of early Joni Mitchell with the spunky ire of Liz Phair.

They say that beauty is exemplified by slight imperfection. This is quite true. Take Jewel, an absolutely ravishing American beauty with teeth that have clearly never visited a dentist. Okay, so she's not quite Shane MacGowan in the dental department, but her crooked pearly whites offset her otherwise faultless face to the extent that everyone notices. Perhaps it's contributed to her fortune? Jewel has sold over ten million albums of insipid acoustic poetry, and, after something resembling a backwards brainwave, she's also published a book of insipid poetry, without the acoustics, which has now sold two million. She is, therefore, America's First Lady of letters, but she's hardly a communicator in the way Tori Amos is, and neither is she zeitgeisty like Alanis is - or at least was. No, essentially Jewel sings vaguely pretty songs in a very pretty way. So of course there's an audience for her. (See you there, then. Front row.)