Whose name comes to mind when the subject turns to major female rock (not pop) stars of the last decade? The answer, by default, is Sheryl Crow.

Nobody has challenged her 25-million-selling success, so the crown belongs to this diligent, rather anodyne woman. Clearly, millions disagree with that sentiment, and, since Crow was preaching to people willing to pay £37 a ticket, I was probably the only one who was gobsmacked when she casually told us how she'd come to record the Bob Dylan song Mississippi: "He called and said, 'I wrote a song and I want to give it to you.'" As he does. Not only that, when she ran into the man months later, he was anxious to get her opinion of his own recording of the track. One can only assume Dylan believes her Midwestern steadfastness to have an affinity with his own. The tune, by the way, was moulded by Crow into a rocky twang-out that utterly eradicated its author's imprint.

Crow claimed that getting engaged to cyclist Lance Armstrong has produced a more chilled-out attitude, and her new album, Wildflower, is accordingly languid in tone. Whipped into life on stage, though, the bluster-content of Perfect Lie and I Know Why matched that of old hits such as If it Makes You Happy and My Favorite Mistake. There was a pretty stool moment, though. Perched on one, she sang Wildflower's title track with such toned-down simplicity that it seemed her body was inhabited by someone else - Dylan's old flame Joan Baez, perhaps. Which might just explain things ...