Giddy and Still Gifted

Beth Orton was once such a hesitant performer that the words “shy” and “fragile” were as essential in describing her as “singer” and “songwriter.”

No longer.

At downtown L.A.’s Mayan Theatre on Thursday, Orton played with confidence and command in a winning two-hour set, fulfilling the considerable promise that’s surrounded the Englishwoman since her acclaimed 1997 debut album, “Trailer Park.”

Even in her most retiring moments on stage in the past five years, Orton was an intriguing presence because her delicate nature mirrored her songs’ vulnerable reflections on relationships.

Unlike most songwriters who give us conclusions about love and other matters of the heart, Orton acknowledged in her best songs a certain bewilderment when it comes to the nature of the romantic beast.

Still, her sometimes nervous, withdrawn presence on stage all but put the stamp “cult figure” on her forehead. When the singer failed to move forward creatively in her timid second album, 1999’s “Central Reservation,” even that modest piece of turf started to seem beyond her reach.

The disappointment of that album makes the authority and grace of her new “Daybreaker” all the more surprising and welcome. Not only is this her most graceful and penetrating set of songs, but she also sings with a new vitality, and the arrangements are superbly tailored to the mysterious undercurrents in her subject matter.

Even the advances in “Daybreaker,” however, failed to fully signal the shine of Orton on stage Thursday. Without sacrificing any soulful conviction, she opened up in ways that were charming and uplifting.

When she thanked the audience for their applause after certain songs, she actually shouted the words at times, rather than whisper them as in the past. Downright giddy by her old standards, she smiled easily, did a couple of quirky dance steps and even attempted a joke.

None of this, of course, would have mattered if the music didn’t blossom as well. Orton and her six-piece group played all the songs from the new album (along with selections from the previous collections), and the most liberating moments find her recognizing the danger signs in relationships and being able to adjust, if not completely sidestep them.

“These habits are so hard to break and they’re so easy to make,” she sang during “Thinking About Tomorrow,” and the line rings with a truth that runs through Orton’s work.

She’s as quick to admit the nagging quirks in her own makeup as she is to find fault with others. In “Mount Washington,” she warns, “And nobody can keep you from the one you know you are.” In “Concrete Sky,” which she sang during an acoustic segment, she looks outward: “I’ve seen your good side, but I still don’t know just what it is.”

Orton’s voice has a clear, almost pristine ring, overcoming a narrowness of range by aggressively shifting emotional tones in a line. She sometimes leans for the mystery of Kate Bush, then the bright declaration of Joni Mitchell. Wherever she goes vocally, her musicians follow with playing that is stylish and seductive.

Orton was one of the first pop figures to bridge two appealing genres--the ‘60s singer-songwriter folk tradition and the contemporary electronica movement. In “Central Reservation,” however, she seemed so uncertain about the proportion of folk and electronica that she did the title song in both styles.

The breakthrough in “Daybreaker” is that she seems to have turned her back on the folk/electronica issue and simply worked out ambitious arrangements that fit the music. The instrumentation Thursday--guitar, synthesizer-keyboards, cello, bass, violin and drums--provided a wide array of textures, which were mixed and matched in ways that made the music seem fresh and smart: There were even moments of explosive rock ‘n’ roll.

During the encore, Orton turned away from her own material for a loving, prayer-like treatment of ‘60s folksinger Fred Neil’s idealistic “The Dolphins,” which felt like a post-Sept. 11 expression of hope and yearning.

In an interview a few days before the concert, Orton acknowledged that she feels more comfortable with her music, on stage and in the studio.

“For a long time, I didn’t really know what I had done on that first record that people thought was so special, and I worried about it,” she said. “Then it was time to make the second record and there was a lot of pressure. I wasn’t very happy making the second record or touring with it.

“I got to the point where I had to ask myself, ‘Do I want to continue with this or give up?’ I really thought it was time to stop, but I got strength from others. I kept meeting people I respected like Johnny Marr from the Smiths and Emmylou Harris and Ryan Adams, who said they were inspired by my music and wanted to work with me on the new album.”

Orton learned to trust her own instincts rather than rely on producers and others for direction.

“That was a huge thing,” says the singer, whose creative battles were faced as she continues to suffer from Crohn’s disease, a chronic intestinal disorder. “When you start trusting rather than doubting yourself, it gives you unbelievable strength and faith. Instead of being paralyzed, you just got on with it, and I started to really enjoy it.”

With “Daybreaker,” Orton is likely to have a lot of company in that enjoyment.

Joining her on the bill Thursday were the Hems, a New York group with a sort of cosmopolitan country sound that features some of the melancholy textures of the Cowboy Junkies, and Alex Lloyd, an earnest singer-songwriter whose music could use more of the energy and personality he put into a customized version of the Elvis Presley hit “Mystery Train.”