Martha Wainwright has breathed fresh life into the songs of Edith Piaf in a bold and fearless presentation that has taken both her and her audience well outside their respective comfort zones. The show was first staged in New York in June under the guidance of the producer Hal Willner, a two-night engagement that resulted in the live album Sans Fusils, Ni Souliers, à Paris, which was released this week. In London, accompanied by many of the same musicians, including Doug Wieselman on guitar, Thomas Bartlett on piano and her husband, Brad Albetta, on upright bass, and a small string and horn section, Wainwright returned to her theme with studied passion.

Although she has been fascinated by the songs of Piaf since childhood and has long been familiar with the French singer’s repertoire, Wainwright found it difficult to balance the new role of tribute act with that of her own fiercely independent stage personality.

The Canadian-born singer was at pains to let us know that she had not even seen the film La Vie en Rose, much less made any attempt to emulate Marion Cotillard’s Oscar-winning performance as Piaf. And as Wainwright arrived on stage, blonde and heavily pregnant, in a sparkling candy-striped top with shiny black leggings, it was difficult to imagine how she could have contrived to look less like Piaf.

Yet her affection for the music, and her empathy with the often troubled emotions voiced by Piaf through her songs, was plain to hear in her performance. Well equipped with her Montreal French, she applied her own, larger than life persona to nimble interpretations of chansons including L’Accordeoniste and Marie Trottoir, which she put across with the ardour of a true believer.

Prefacing each number with a brief explanation of the lyric or comment on its personal significance, Wainwright brought the music of a different era and culture into the here and now with a loving, evocative flourish. Archive film footage of Second World War soldiers and parachutists accompanied the martial rhythms of Les Grognards, and images of Paris commuters illustrated the scurrying wordplay of le Métro.

For an encore, she sang a heartfelt, if incongruous version of Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?, as a rather offbeat nod to the Armistice Day ceremonies, followed by La Vie en Rose, a familiar tune at last, that underlined how unfamiliar most of her other choices had been. A rather tentative singalong from the stalls rounded off an ambitious show for pop fans on the lookout for a cultural challenge.

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