Natalie Prass @ Electric Circus, Edinburgh, 2 September

There’s a Venn diagram somewhere that overlaps folk-rock with that tedious signifier of overly-tasteful coffee-tableism known as ‘AOR’. On her self-titled debut LP, Natalie Prass leans heavily on the former but occasionally wobbles perilously towards the latter – it’s a shame that this might cause her delightful collection of chamber pop to be carelessly cast aside. Thankfully this rather more raucous live show redresses the balance somewhat.

‘Raucous’ is relative, of course: Prass’ voice is a gently precise yet emotive instrument. Echoes of Eddi Reader abound, particularly on the winsome jangle of Bird of Prey, while there’s also a hint of Alison Krauss’ enduring warmth in her confident delivery. Without the album’s luscious sweep of Gershwin-esque strings (provided by Trey Pollard, present tonight on lead guitar), her songs feel beautifully bare-boned and vulnerable, leaving space for us to ponder each individual note rather than being swept up in a graceful melange of sound. It’s largely thanks to the chops of her backing band that any sense of roughness is injected into these fragile beasts, and when they eventually roar (as on frenetic new number Jazz), they’re a joy to behold.

Not everything goes according to plan: halfway through the show, she wrinkles her nose and asks whether something is burning. It’s quickly established that an audience member has accidentally set her hair on fire. “Damn, girl!” the singer chuckles. “That stinks!” Before long, the incident forms the lyrical basis of an improvised mock-blues number entitled The Quiet Storm – along with a story of excusing herself from college class, in order to finish writing a song in the bathroom, it all adds up to an endearing stage presence. Pair that with some excellent songwriting and you’ve got a class act. Adult-orientated? Whatever: one album in, Natalie Prass is already a captivating performer.