Salvation must lie somewhere between Iceland and Italy, where Emiliana Torrini's parents come from. At least that was how her music made me feel.

Dressed like a Communist hausfrau, in husky, carefully spoken tones, similar in speech and song to Bjork, Torrini, half-giggling, half-embarrassed, began the first of several painfully sweet songs.

Although she joked she "didn't do happy," the effect made you want to curl up in a rug with your loved one before a coal fire and rut.

But despite half the audience sitting on the floor, this wasn't folk. And, despite the delicacy of Torrini's heartfelt lyrics, she prefaced each song with a sharp line in self-deprecation and wacky anecdote which made everyone laugh and which offset what could have become too earnest.

Despite the slightly manky venue, it was a beautiful experience. My girlfriend said Torrini's voice was "crystalline". Torrini and her music (what's the difference?) were pure, earthy and funny. Life-enhancing stuff.