Maria Bethania is an entertaining enigma, a singer who can sound like a pained and passionate Brazilian answer to Edith Piaf, and then suddenly switch to more lightweight pop balladry. She became famous for her opposition to the military government in the 60s, and a decade later she became Brazil's biggest selling female artist, thanks to her reinterpretation of pained and romantic ballads, some written by her brother, Caetano Veloso.

Unlike him, Bethania is a rare visitor to Britain, and the Festival Hall was packed with a predominantly Brazilian audience. She's now in her mid-60s and came on looking like a mixture of priestess and veteran pop star, with grey-black hair hanging almost to her waist. The stage had been strewn with red paper roses, and she moved around it acting out her songs, sometimes sitting to lament lost love, then striding up and down to recite poetry (in Portuguese), and ending with a sprightly dance.

Her voice was still powerful but intimate, especially when she sang unaccompanied, and the mood changed constantly as she segued between slow ballads and more upbeat favourites, like Chico Buarque's Vida, followed later by Explode Coração, a Gonzaguinha song from the 70s; her brother's Queixa, and Balada de Gisberta, the emotional story of a murdered transvestite.

The band were allowed an over-long jazz-funk instrumental while Bethania changed her clothes. Reappearing in white, she switched between songs echoing Brazil's rural traditions, ballads by her brother and Vinicius de Moraes, a dash of jazz, and a singalong with her adoring audience. It was an often impressive performance, but the intensity of her best songs was almost lost in the slick, rapid-fire set.