''Don't cry for me, ain't nothing like being free,'' sings Karen Underwood. Blessed with a powerful operatic voice, especially needed to delve into the world of demonised badass Lilith (''you can call me feminist but I'm older than that'') the ever so slightly overshadowed, to say the least, wife of the bible's Adam.

Written by Eadaoin O'Donoghue and John O'Brien performed by Underwood with Dave Whitla on bass, Fionn Ó Ceallacháin on drums and O'Brien on piano all unobtrusive in support, Lilith, Michelangelo's half-woman, half-serpent, James Joyce centuries later in Ulysses changed her profile to give her a new edge: ''Then spake young Stephen orgulous of mother Church that would cast him out of her bosom, of law of canons, of Lilith, patron of abortions, of bigness wrought by wind of seeds of brightness or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth.''

The song cycle has a compelling trajectory and mood music to goad you, just go on, exorcise your own demons but leave Lilith's alleged shortcomings all to her own safe keeping, thank you very much. She ain't much bothered about what anyone thinks. The jaunty funeral song finds a joy in the attitude ''I'm having a funeral for everything that I know so I cry my tears out in one go.'' The biggest taboo as it turns out, relevant even in these desperate Covid times, Lilith knows she has to break, and she's bringing you with her, and that's urge you on to join her very own, at times, delicious dance.