It seems like home. While her passport may tell the world that she is American, the French have been much, much quicker to embrace Melody Gardot’s extraordinary talent.
At the end of this absorbing concert — the first of three nights at a venue that is synonymous with Jacques Brel and Edith Piaf — she gave a demonstration of a seductive two-step from her native Philadelphia. For the rest of the evening, though, the footloose singer-songwriter was every bit the chic Parisian, chatting in French and strutting the stage like a Dior model. (The walking stick that has been her companion since a near-fatal traffic accident more than a decade ago was not needed tonight.)
Ironically, the funk-based songs that made up the bulk of