MUSIC / Gloom and gynaecology: P J Harvey - The Forum, London

P J HARVEY is the name of the singer, and the name of the band. The way this 24-year-old from Yeovil presumed to keep the limelight from the two men in the trio captured the imaginations of indie rockers everywhere. Here was a woman who played a big Gretsch guitar with facility and power, sang like a banshee and wrote songs which were grounded in the body - 'Hair', 'Legs', 'Dry' and 'Rub 'Til It Bleeds.' She studied sculpture at St Martins in London, thankfully preferring music. This doubtless saved us from another roomful of 'Piss Flowers' or plaster casts of her reproductive organs, and instead gave us a rock 'n' roll queenie to look up to.

Since her alleged nervous breakdown last year, between the albums Dry and Rid of Me, Polly Harvey has lightened up a little. However, she started her Forum show with an apparent throwback to the old severe manner. She performed 'Man Size' with a dissonant string sextet, wearing a tux, feather boa and long skirt. There were a few ruffled feathers in the worshipful front rows too - especially when she was presented with a large bouquet. Luckily, it turned out to be a joke: Doing the Encore at the Beginning. After a five minute break the squares in black tie were gone, Polly had her bovver boots on (with a scarlet mini-dress, leopard print top and silly shades), and, more importantly, her guitar.

Gentle picking of the bass strings introduced 'Rid of Me', a superbly dramatic monologue about a woman who won't let go. Harvey has a soft and melodic voice when it suits her, but - like Sinead O'Connor, the indie goddess she has supplanted - is never happier than when changing gear in her throat. Twice, 'Rid of Me' burst into a powerful refrain - 'Don't yo' wish yo' never, never met her?' - with the drummer offering the falsetto line 'Lick my legs, I'm on fire'. Almost buried by the angst and passion of the song, this, like the silly voices in '50 Foot Queenie', was another PJ Harvey joke. Perhaps you had to be her.

The details were thrilling, the cumulative effect less so. In songs such as 'Me-Jane' her voice has a resonance reminiscent of Suzi Quatro, without the help of reverb. Robert Ellis's stiff, intense drumming also put one in mind of Quatro's rockabilly-tinged sound. But two hours of the stop-start, whisper-scream pattern was wearing. The more familiar the material, such as last year's fertility gargoyle number 'Sheela-Na-Gig' the easier it was for the audience to pogo in the right places. 'Daytona Demon' would have lightened things up, but instead we got a harrowing, mashed- up 'Highway '61 Revisited'. Well, maybe this is a sign that she's on the road to recovery.