Thea Gilmore, Bloomsbury Theatre, London

Thea Gilmore walks on wearing a red "Ethics Girl" T-shirt as the Impressions' "People Get Ready" plays, and waits respectfully for the last note. Known for her recalcitrant punk spirit, Gilmore is more concerned with the common ground of folk music and civil rights now. Old before her time when she arrived a decade ago, 19 and wanting to be the new Dylan or Costello, she is no longer precocious. She has married her career-long musical foil Nigel Stonier, given birth to his son, been dropped by her label and been clinically depressed, leading up to new album Liejacker. But its acoustic songs provide some comfort tonight.

"Seen It All Before" gives a nod to that old Costello rattle and sneer, as she stays "this side of Birmingham" (the northern one) as the country collapses into emotional fascism. The brand new "God's Got Nothing On You" also spits out superb social vitriol at a smug slaughterer, perhaps Blair. "Icarus Wind", with Stonier on piano, deals with folk verities of death and elemental disquiet. But the plea for cosmic roots in "Old Soul", the celebratory escape of "Dance in New York", and an unlikely, aggressively erotic take on Dead or Alive's "You Spin Me Round" are closer to her mood of grateful recuperation.

This seated theatre's frozen atmosphere has its ice cut by a short, sharp burst of civilly disobedient folk, "If You Miss Me At the Back of the Bus". "Call Me Your Darling" is classical, Brill Building pop, built on her strong, pure voice. "Avalanche", written after September 11, reads the vapour-trailed skies on a heat-hazed afternoon, watching ideals evaporate in a metaphorical Britain. Loaded with the language of softly delivered disgust, it equals Costello. "This Girl is Taking Bets", from 2002, then sees Gilmore's limbs loosen and hips cock, turning back into the spitting punk-pop provocateur she once was. She steps back grinning before it finishes, as if to observe her old self.

But it is "Are You Ready", with its old-fashioned talk of voting, Joan Baez (like Springsteen, a Gilmore fan), and "We Shall Overcome", which inspires a crowd chorus. The celebratory "When I Get Back to Shore" sees seven young women, and one sheepish man, accept her invitation to a stage invasion, joining in asking: "Won't you break out the wine?" The litany of global degradation in the quiet, closing "The Lower Road" slips by unnoticed in the general warm mood. Depression and death won't win tonight.

Touring to 19 July (www.theagilmore.net)