Even in Cambridge, where people often have the indecency of phenomenal talents in many unrelated fields, Camille O’Sullivan’s two lives - the former as an award-winning architect, and the current as a sell-out Cabaret act - sound like an exceptionally odd combination. On Tuesday, though, O’Sullivan’s eccentric versatility made her show Feel a breathtaking experience.

The Junction’s stage was seemingly littered with the contents of a Portobello Road flea market whilst corsets and red dresses hovered above the four piece backing band. The songstress, known for her appearances on Later... with Jools Holland and sell out shows at the Edinburgh fringe, exuded dark seductiveness throughout her set of songs penned by Bowie, Yorke, Waits, Cohen et al. Initial doubts that O’Sullivan’s cabaret theatricals could be masking a mediocre voice were soon dispelled on the a cappella ‘Amsterdam’ where the singer’s textured, full red wine voice earned her rapturous applause. Admittedly, in other contexts, breathiness and dodgy diction would be justifiable criticisms, but here the rough vocal style is in keeping with the foot-stomping physicality of the show which saw the singer reduced to a heap of satin covered exhaustion on the floor as often as flung over a velvet chair.

O’Sullivan’s previous tour was titled Chameleon and it’s easy to see why. She delivers a gritty yet humorous rendition of Kirsty MacColl’s jazzy ‘In These Shoes’ but is soon silencing the audience just as easily with a powerful yet bitter version of ‘Are You The One That I’ve Been Waiting For.’ Elsewhere, ‘Sugar In My Bowl’ is dripping with a raw, demanding sexuality barely noticeable in the original. Her physical performance has some wonderful subtleties; an averted gaze and sudden fascination with her hands nicely nuances Reznor’s ‘Hurt’ and the blink-and-look-up-to-hide-the-tears in Radiohead’s incredible Kid A-era rarity ‘True Love Waits’ is a tasty morsel of understated drama. Indeed it is in this song where the chameleon is most impressive. During the verses we find ourselves almost awkward spectators in a failing relationship whilst during the chorus O’Sullivan has transported us to a drunken night in a Dublin pub.

Some of the painful attempts at humour, however, remind us that sometimes unusual is unwelcome. Perhaps caressing several audience members is pleasantly quirky. Perhaps. But the bunny-hopping across the stage is as uncomfortable as the impromptu meowing is inexplicable. However, such issues are quickly forgotten in the cathartic cocktail that is Feel. Camille O’Sullivan is a welcome breath of smoky, pungent, emotional intoxication.