Higelin is notorious for starting his concerts late and his visit to the Big Apple on April 17th proved to be no exception. Fans had to wait around for a good half-hour before Jacquot finally arrived on stage at the Alliance Française, greeting them with the immortal lines, "I'm not Maurice Chevalier or Brigitte Bardot and I'm certainly not Gérard "Depardiou" - I am Jacques Higelin from Paris, France !"

At 8.30pm "Captain Dodécaphonic Dada" Higelin struck his opening chord, accompanied by the one and only Docteur Mahut on percussion. But it wasn't long before Jacquot broke off from singing to chat to his audience, recounting his impressions of his first day in New York. The singer told fans he'd spent the afternoon wandering round amidst skyscrapers and tall, tall buildings which seemed to have been built with the sole purpose of "poking a hole in the moon's arse and playing with the rings around Saturn!" Strangely enough, Higelin's vivid description of his afternoon met with a wall of silence from the American audience.

Jacquot carried on regardless, building up to the moment when he came over all sentimental, telling fans how he'd called his daughter, Izia, back home to tell her how much he loved her! After this moment of shared emotion, Higelin launched into his set in earnest, Mahut thundering along behind him on percussion. As is his wont, Higelin interspersed his playing with plenty of muttered swear words, proffering a "Putain, fait chier!" to the audience on his right and a "damn, fuck it!" to fans on the left (Jacques was trying to make an effort to fit into the swing of New York, after all!) The audience greeted this strange behaviour with another bout of total silence, although I thought I heard a few snorts of French-sounding laughter issuing from Gallic sections of the crowd.

Hasting a quick glance round the Alliance Française (packed almost to capacity), I reassured myself that no offended members of the audience had walked out after Higelin's swearing fit… After all, let's not forget this is America, land of a thousand perversions yet nevertheless puritan to the core, a country where no-one but no-one messes with sex or religion! However, much to my personal amusement, Higelin seemed to be intent on breaking a few local taboos and he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself in the process. At one point the French prankster even went so far as to give a Fellini-esque imitation of the Pope, sweeping his arms in the sign of the cross as Mahut hammered away on percussion behind him.

Throughout the rest of the show Higelin leapt around on stage happy as a sandboy, whirling round like a dervish and hopping from foot to foot with undisguised glee. The only cloud on his horizon, Higelin explained to fans, was that here he was in New York and the "bloody useless" customs officers at JFK hadn't even bothered to stamp his passport! But then he switched straight back into happy mode and proceeded to leap around the stage, shouting "Je suis French from France - in fact, I've never felt as French as I do now that I'm over here!" " Needless to say, Mahut promptly backed up this momentous announcement with an emphatic roll of the drums. With a glass of red wine - possibly Californian rather than French! - perched on top of the piano and the corresponding bottle hidden just off stage, Higelin went on to launch into a rousing version of Mona Lisa Klaxon then picked up his guitar and moved swiftly onto the blues.

After a trip down memory lane with La butte Montmartre, it was time to savour a burst of Champagne before Higelin invited us into his Paradis Païen. Song after song rolled out over our heads as Higelin continued his marathon performance and we watched on and on, entranced. Finally, I glanced down at my double watch in the dark (it tells me the time in New York and Paris) - no, it couldn't possibly be 11.30 already! He'd only been playing for three hours and there he was, already breaking into the legendary finale "Partir, et surtout ne jamais se retourner…" With a wrenching heart I knew it was time to bid au revoir to Jacquot and Mahut!

Venturing back stage after the show, I found Higelin's dressing room packed with people, but still managed to catch a glimpse of a beautiful black woman speaking to Jacques at the back of the room. I must admit I experienced an unnerving flash of déjà vu as she chatted happily away, "You know, I really enjoyed the show tonight. I'm not a very good musician but I like to play …. Jacques, standing there in his dressing room in his bare feet, responded with touching franglais charm, "Well, ça me fait plaisir que you came tonight". Now, what's her name again? Gaelle or something? No, no, I've got it, it's Gail Ann Dorsey! My God, Jacques, does David Bowie know his bass-player was hanging round your dressing room like that? And who was that guy standing next to her, surely not Sterling Campbell - Bowie's drummer?

OK, it's obvious I don't belong here - time to go and leave the stars to mingle amongst themselves! So it's goodbye and thankyou Jacques, and a big thankyou to Mahut too. You know, living over here I don't actually miss France at all but it did me so much good to get a taste of home tonight. Now Jacques, don't pull a face like that, just tell them you don't like so many people crammed into your dressing room and send them all packing! I, for one, am off right now! So Jacquot, here's wishing you lots of Americans at your future concerts and, once again, thankyou for showing me such a wonderful time in New York!