In an age of ever-better soundsystems and chain venues built and kitted out to replicate the same standard gig experience in different cities and areas, it's nice to be reminded of the challenges and rewards of a non-standard venue. I've intended many times in the past to go to shows at the Union Chapel in North London, but somehow Friday was my first time – and I was stunned. The space inside the octagonal chapel is welcoming and airy, and where some church interiors sternly command hush and attention this simply seemed to relax people into a contemplative state.

Scandinavia’s music is the gift that keeps on giving. Journeying through new releases from our friends in the north, this round-up encounters irresistible Danish electropop, absorbing Norwegian weirdness, hypnotic Finns, charming singer-songwriting from Sweden and Icelandic/Swedish jazz pop.

I love the fact that under the “genre” tab on their Facebook page, Orchestre National de Barbès have opted for “Other” from the dropdown menu. Obviously in Facebookland “Other” simply means not rock, soul, hi-hop, jazz, reggae, classical etc. However, in a metaphysical/philosophical sense “Other” can mean that which is alien, different or exotic. But what tickled me is that the music of this Parisian-based, largely Algerian band actually embraces just about all the Facebook categories they could have clicked on, even if none of them fully sums up the multilayered din they create.

As Gary Numan strode out onto the stage last night, for the Shepherd's Bush leg of his Dead Son Rising tour, his black boots a-shining, his arms a-waving, his proto-emo knees a-bending, well, you couldn't say the crowd went insane, exactly - but they were very pleased to see him.

Summertime and the living is easy. Gershwin wrote it but it could almost be written by that apostle of California sun, Brian Wilson, who sung it with his band last night. Wilson wouldn’t have come up with a line like “your daddy’s rich, and your mama’s good-looking” - a bit too knowing. Wilson’s music was focused on surf, girls and cars, but had elements in common with Gershwin – working with brothers and burning out early, among other things.

Maybe my memory is playing tricks, but I seem to recall that Beirut had more of a swagger in their step, in their playing, and in their demeanour when I last saw them four years ago. It was at the Roundhouse, it was packed, and Zach Condon and his band were on an upward trajectory following the release of their acclaimed album, The Flying Club Cup; they moved with ease and oozed a sort of blowsy bonhomie.

Friday 9th September

There are some acts you’d rather not catch in a concert hall. The relatively recent pairing of King Creosote and Jon Hopkins isn’t, however, one of them. Diamond Mine, their seven-year project, is a deceptively serious piece of art that prefers to be listened to closely and without distraction. It may have been one of the more obscure nominees at this year’s Mercury Prize, but that recognition has resulted in an album that could easily have slipped quietly by, gaining fans fast. And last night those fans found themselves immersed in Diamond Mine’s meditative soundscapes whilst, on stage, one eccentric and one prodigy gave a masterful demonstration of the benefits of perseverance.

John Grant’s Queen of Denmark was released less than 18 months ago. Yet here it is, already being performed at one these "so-and-so plays such-and-such an album" shows. Does it merit this treatment? Based on last night, yes. This one-off reunion of Grant with his patrons, Texas’s Midlake, lit the Festival Hall with the beauty and literate miserabilism of his songs. In jeans, suit jacket and a T-shirt, Grant strolled on stage and the audience erupted in applause. He’s touched a chord.

While the physical and mechanical elements of its production are common to all, the sound of a person's voice is as individual as a fingerprint. Launching her Brazilian-themed solo album Lágrimas de um pássaro (Tears of a Bird) in the intimate surroundings of Soho's Pizza Express Jazz Club, Heidi Vogel's extraordinarily rich and complex vocal timbre proved capable of completely seducing the senses.