Charismatic, powerful and raw: Patti Smith, at Somerset House, reviewed

There are certain long-established rules for describing Patti Smith. Google her name and the words ‘shaman’ and ‘priestess’ and you’ll see what I mean. For the best part of 50 years she’s been treated as though she’s a mystical object, a human convergence of ley lines, as much as a rock singer.

In the courtyard at Somerset House, she didn’t exactly discourage the clichés. There was a long lecture on the power of the full ‘buck’ moon, which was hidden by clouds but still prompted the people in front of me to pull out their phones to check astronomy apps. There was a lengthy hymn to William Blake that concluded: ‘And then the children, the chimney sweeps, remembered him.’ And of course, there was the song ‘Ghost Dance’, about identifying with the Native American struggle (in general, Native Americans are one of the subjects best avoided in a rock song, along with ‘I met an old man who turned out to be real wise’ and ‘Why I love my children’.