Corinne Bailey Rae’s ubiquity is such that it’s easy to forget what a new thing her celebrity is. The illusion is further heightened by the fact that her maiden hit Put Your Records On sounds as if it has always been with us, like a track from Carole King’s Tapestry, or maybe a ripe love hymn from Laura Nyro.

This might explain why, on the opening night of this British tour, it seemed surprising to watch her take to the stage so gingerly. The Queens Hall isn’t a large venue by any stretch of the imagination — but that didn’t stop Bailey Rae commenting on the “massive crowd” standing before her.

In fact, utterances that might on first impression have seemed disingenuous were probably born of fear. The inter-song banter was hesitant — “Um, the fast ones seem to go really fast, don’t they?”

But like any inarticulate Premiership footballer you care to name, she seemed a different person when immersed in the act for which she is known. Donning finger cymbals for Enchantment, she surfed its descending chords with weightless grace. Invoking love’s “little volcanoes” on Call Me When You Get This, her voice took flight from her surrounding band like a bird from a fortress. Indeed, taken as a series of individual performances, you would have been hard pushed to muster any grievances. However, someone really ought to have a word with her about pacing. Put Your Records On got the throng moving — but after just five minutes on stage and no comparably big hits to follow, it was far too early.

And if the fast ones seem to go fast, the slow ones don’t half drag when you play five or six in succession. That wouldn’t have mattered if this were the Leeds jazz club where Bailey Rae once worked. After a while though, the standing section of the audience looked as though they might just as easily been waiting for the night bus. The problem was remedied with a well-chosen version of Led Zeppelin’s Since I’ve Been Loving You. What started out as another smoky soul meditation exploded into action with a rising torrent of Hammond organ and Bailey Rae’s emotional pay-off — “tears fall down like rain”.

The catharsis seemed to benefit not just the crowd, but the singer herself. As her band left the stage, it was a visibly relaxed Bailey Rae who then donned a guitar for a sparse, stunning delivery of Like a Star. After a few minutes lost in music, she seemed startled when the echo of her strings gave way to a deafening ovation.

She had better get used to those “massive” crowds. As long as she keeps dispensing moments like that, they’re not going to get any smaller.

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