In this day and age, "folk" is a vastly overused term. It seems to be becoming something of a catch-all, launched at everything that is not easily pigeon-holed and is, at a push, vaguely acoustic. It is certainly a label often applied to the work of Devendra Banhart. In spite of the obvious folksy roots of some of his music, the variety of styles and genres which he has covered over the course of his career make us wonder if "folk" really covers it.

Tonight, at Madrid's Sala Joy Eslava, he gives us a taste of the multiple influences which colour his work, particularly latest album Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon. The set begins gently, after a lengthy spoken-word introduction in Spanish, with some slower, sweet-sounding numbers, like 'So Long Old Bean' and the naïve romance of Niño Rojo's 'At The Hop', before the band launches into material, both new and old, encompassing a formidable range of styles and influences.

From the Doors-y blues of Cripple Crow's 'Long Haired Child', to the lazy, spun-out guitars of 'Mama Wolf' and the reggae-tinged 'The Other Woman', they prove just what it is that makes this artist so difficult to label.

Perhaps as a result of the impressively varied spectrum of music that we witness, the new material sits comfortably among the older numbers, with the beautiful 'Seahorse', and the funky, Meters-ish 'Lover' the highlights of the evening.

We get the impression, too, that here is an artist who feels able to make himself quite at home in any situation. He takes advantage of our current location to natter away at length in Spanish, drawing the audience in and ingratiating himself to those watching.

He also pays homage to the culture of our present surroundings, with the flamenco-tinged 'Quédate Luna' (Cripple Crow) and 'Samba Vexillographica' (Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon) taking us away from the cold, drizzly reality that is Madrid in November to a far more clichéd, but altogether more pleasant, view of the Hispanic world.

In witnessing his ability to draw influence from the culture of his surroundings, whatever they may be, we're left pondering whether this isn't, in fact, precisely what folk is all about.

On top of this, he seems to adhere to the supportive, all-together-now mentality that characterises folk bands and artists such as Fairport Convention. To that end, he treats us to the compositions of some of those sharing the stage with him, such as the shoegazy 'Bright Wind' (the work of his keyboard player) and the flurry of bluesy guitars which erupt in Vetiver frontman Andy Cabic's 'You May Be Blue'.

He also repeats the ritual of inviting an audience member onstage to play a song of their own. The girl that takes to the stage this evening (after some gentle coercing by Banhart) copes admirably. It could so easily have been embarrassing, car-crash viewing; but it's not. It never is.

Ending on a life-affirming rendition of Cripple Crow's 'I Feel Like A Child', we're left with the sense of community that this artist seems infinitely capable of creating wherever he goes, and the warming sensation of having been part of something pretty special to ease our chilly walk home.