Silje Nergaard, Ronnie Scott's, London

Captivating, intriguing, graceful...

The signs on the tables at Ronnie Scott's enjoining guests to be as quiet as possible during the performances are all too often ignored, pushed to the side like dishes of dreary, unwanted salad garnish. The first night of Silje Nergaard's week-long residency was a happy exception to this, and the idiots who labour under the misconception that jazz clubs are places where musicians should contend with noisy chatter were notable by their absence. This was as well, for it was an evening of nuanced, understated music, both from Nergaard's band and the supporting act, the excellent Pete Wareham Quartet.

For those that don't know her yet, Nergaard is a Norwegian singer who manages to overcome the handicap of belonging to two currently overrated categories – jazz singers and Scandinavians. There are too many new jazz singers not doing anything new at the moment, and, like pickled herring, Bugge Wesseltoft and the Nu Jazz is something you can get heartily sick of if it's constantly shoved down your throat.

Silje (pronounced Celia, although not by Ronnie's antipodean MC) has been compared to Blossom Dearie. Fond though we all are of the divine Miss Dearie, this doesn't do the younger singer justice. Her middle register has a captivating, viola-rich timbre, played with plenty of resin on the bow so that she cuts emphatically into each note, but with perfect control. There is a candy-sweetness to her voice, but this candy is not for children. It's after-dinner candy, with black coffee and the promise of what is to follow.

Visually intriguing, Nergaard possesses an unselfconscious grace on stage, even when gesturing like a swimmer or a choir-leader indicating the pitch of notes to the vocally challenged. She sways in red in front of her dark-suited quartet, the sidemen shadowy suitors ready to pluck a rose for their elf-like leader.

Her backing quartet is acoustic (apart from the pianist doubling on the Rhodes), which lends an "unplugged" feel to some of the material one might expect to be performed on electric instruments. This only adds to the charm, though. There's no hiding behind an enhanced, over-amplified sound, and the numbers must stand on their own merit. I'm sure Sting would have approved of their loose, artful version of his "If You Love Somebody Set Them Free", with Nergaard's pianist executing the kind of freer jazz solo that the former Police-man encouraged David Sancious to take in his live shows.

The Nergaard-penned "Japanese Blue", a number that echoed through misty, enchanted valleys, was followed by a bravura romp through "How High The Moon", as if to show the audience at the end of the set that she can do standards just as well as your Stacey Kents (if not better).

If Nergaard continues to sing and write like this, it shouldn't be long before she doesn't have to explain the correct pronunciation of her name.