World music isn't sexy. But as Susheela Raman thrusts her hips, smirking with a mix of arrogance and pride, her black leather trousers gleaming in the dusky red light, she makes Kylie look like a nun. Raman has brought her unique brand of British-Asian music to a wider pop audience, after gaining a place on the Mercury music prize shortlist for her debut album Salt Rain, a collection of songs that range from 300-year-old evocations of Indian goddesses to Tim Buckley's Song to the Siren. Throughout, the fusion of styles - jazz, folk, Indian and African - Raman maintains the theme of womanhood, in all its seductive strength. With the street style and take-no- prisoners attitude of Neneh Cherry and a voice that recalls the sassy sweetness of Billie Holiday, Raman exploits and enjoys her femininity.
She is the cool focus around which percussionists and bass and acoustic guitars sit, watching and waiting as the pure, unblemished notes fly, and the low moan of an electric cello conjures up images of heat and dust. Raman's movements - a slow, rhythmic dance - enhance her sound, each note embraced until she stands still, arms outstretched with palms towards the ceiling as if in a trance.
Watching her is like intruding on a private moment, made more intimate by the strange loveliness of the Indian languages that she moves between. You may not be able to sing along, but you'll understand what she is saying as she makes physical the meaning of each song, and especially when she throws rock-star poses. Raman seems happiest with one tapping foot stuck out in front of her, her movements bold as she sings Bolo Bolo, before becoming a languid tigress about to pounce for Woman.
Raman has chosen not to use western dance beats, but much of her music is dance-oriented, of the spinning, primal kind. As the churning groove of the encore starts, a couple in front of the stage begin to swirl and gyrate in matching lilac splendour. Raman grinds against her cellist, but all eyes remain on the dancing figures at her feet, until, at risk of being upstaged at her own gig, Raman welcomes the girl on to the stage and engages in some twirling of her own, eager to have some fun.
Before that, though, Raman introduces Ganapati with a story. "It's about an elephant who likes to go to the theatre," she sums up with a smile, as an R&B bassline flows through the Indian rhythm. Where Raman is concerned, anything is possible.
