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I went with a friend to see Suzanne Vega play an acoustic show at the Sanctuary Concerts in Chatham, New Jersey. If you rely on the radio to give you a sense of what’s happening in the pop music world, you haven’t heard much from Ms. Vega recently. In corporate radio terms she remains a “two-hit wonder,” known for her 80s hit “Luka” and “Tom’s Diner.” A few songs from a following album – “In Liverpool,” “Blood Makes Noise” – got Indie radio play. Three subsequent albums produced no hits.

Instead, what you find is a career that intelligent artists dream of: early success and popularity which is then used to pursue increasing skill, artistry, beauty, and craftsmanship, all building a bridge between her internal experience and the external world. This bridge between inner and outer is now so firm and sure that she is returning fruitfully to her earlier work, cleaning up the earlier awkwardnesses and refreshing their message.

Sibelius said that too many musicians start with a perceived need, and then write to try to fulfill it – “I need a big melody to carry a symphonic movement,” “I need a hit single.” The proper method, he said, is to generate the melodies, and then let their own inner logic dictate the form they must take. Suzanne Vega’s music shows precisely this organic growth.

It operates on two levels, the first being melodic: she writes interesting melodies which are a pleasure to listen to and sing. The second, however, is just as important: she begins from the fact of her voice, and writes music to suit it.

Her voice is a gift of nature. It has of course been improved by training, but very few people could sing as she does and give so much pleasure. She uses no vibrato, stays within a very narrow tonal range, and hardly varies her volume. She cannot “belt out” songs, and she never overwhelms her listeners. But her voice is a thing of beauty in itself, and she has nearly complete control over it, using the most delicate phrasing and vocal lines. She is also never out of key. She is one of those few pop artists whose voice does not need to be fixed or amplified in the studio. She sounds as good, if not better, live.

One of the reasons for this is that she is now aware of the unique enchantment of her voice, and she has striven in recent years to strip her music down to uncover this essential beauty. She brought only one bandmember, a guitarist, who used the guitar’s electric range to serve in place of any number of instruments, while she played acoustic guitar herself. She publicized at the concert her intention of re-releasing all her earlier work in acoustic versions, which seemed to me and my companion a fantastic idea.

In keeping with this general direction, she played songs from all her albums, including stripped-down versions of some of her best 80s material: “Left of Center” – which sounded superb, its pop melody laid bare; “Marlene on the Wall,” which served as the opener; and “Luka,” which she sang with real passion and made it sound like a standout song. “Tom’s Diner” she has turned into an audience-participation crowdpleaser, which works well. It brought a huge smile to her face to see the crowd enjoy it so much – an interesting peek into her artist’s psyche, which despite its sense of superiority always ultimately loves to please. She closed with “Calypso,” an early song about the goddess who loved Odysseus but let him leave, and she sang it with the depth of feeling that comes with maturity and hard experience in the noble sorrow of letting go. Closing with this song was by no means obvious, and it quieted the crowd, but she sang it superlatively. She sings it an octave above her normal range, but still wonderfully.

Every song she performed was excellent. “When Heroes Go Down” allowed her to push the tempo and show some force; “In Liverpool” was pure melancholy and longing; “Frank and Ava” was simultaneously poppy and serious (it opens with a reference to Ava Gardner’s summation of her troubles with Frank Sinatra: “We didn’t have any problems in bed. The troubles would start on the way to the bidet.”). “New York is a Woman” is one of the best songs ever written about modern New York, especially about Nine-eleven (it was also disfigured on the album Beauty and Crime by a non-acoustic recording, but restored to its full beauty in concert).

Two songs worked less well in this acoustic format, “Pornographer’s Dream” and “Caramel,” beautifully sensuous songs which are suited by rich backing texture. Her guitarist attempted to mimic these textures with his guitar, but in the end an orchestra is an orchestra, and a guitar is only a guitar.

The Sanctuary Concerts, while not a widely known venue, offered her a perfect stage: the concerts are in a Presbyterian Church with superior acoustics, and though my friend and I sat in the last row everything sounded as though it were not electronically filtered but merely the natural sound of voice and guitar. After the first song someone in the crowd cried out “More guitar!” I found her reaction very interesting. She immediately called the comment to the attention of her sound-man. He said (rightly) “Yes, I heard him. He’s wrong.” She was intent on pleasing, and intent on getting it right. Yet all was done with confidence and without any trace of self-doubt.

All in all, I found Ms. Vega an artistic inspiration. She has produced material of continually escalating intelligence and poise, revealing more and more of her life, reflecting wisely on the experience of others, rendering to others the experience of living in New York, and has stayed resolutely on her own path. She has found what she does best, and continues to do it better year by year. She’s one of the treasures of our city, a New Yorker who gets it and passes it on.