Eleanor Friedberger’s songwriting talents are so notable that curious listeners will be discovering her work for decades to come. Friedberger spent much of the 2000s in the band Fiery Furnaces with her brother Matthew, unspooling the kind of ever-surprising compositions that maintain an evergreen cult status. This decade, she’s explored a solo career that blends keenly observed and highly detailed storytelling both personal and fictional, laced through with strong perspective and a sharp wit.

The set Friedberger played Thursday at One Longfellow Square showcased the most recognizable feature of her music: an unusual singing cadence that is somehow conversational yet acrobatic, clear and lovely as a chime, and always leaning forward into its own momentum like a ski jumper. Her voice sounds even fuller and more arresting in person than on her records.

The show leaned heavily on her latest album, the Laurel Canyon-tinged, folk-rock suite “New View.” The album is arguably the first of her records to feature a fairly uniform approach throughout, which extended to the concert.

Backed in the studio and in concert by an incredibly tight band called Icewater (who also opened the show, along with a solo set by local artist Jeff Beam), Friedberger coasted through country-inflected pop, rarely stopping after a song before the drummer launched into the next. Work from her 2011 album “Last Summer” offered more tonal variety, as with the scorching “My Mistakes,” the wobbly funk of “Roosevelt Island” and the slinky “Inn of the Seventh Ray.”

Unfortunately, even in this small venue she didn’t attract a full house. There are reasons for this: Her songs can be eccentric. You likely won’t hear them as the credits scroll in the next independent film you see, much less on the radio. There is probably an issue of gender as well. Friedberger and Father John Misty, for example, are both charismatic, gifted performers who sing wryly verbose, catchy songs. Aside from a past association with onetime it-band Fleet Foxes, however, there is no clear reason why Father John Misty (or, say, Mac DeMarco) quickly graduate to the State Theatre while Friedberger (and women such as Angel Olsen) forever bounce around the smaller rooms.

If Friedberger was fazed by the relatively small showing however, she didn’t show it. She clearly knew what she was getting into, scaled her show down to the audience size, and gamely offered a loose, intimate performance, run through with smiles, jokes and carefree banter with her band. When the band left the stage, giving her a solo turn with her acoustic guitar, Friedberger asked for requests and ended up playing a stripped-down version of the sunny “When I Knew.” Afterward, she was warmly receptive to fans at her merchandise table, ever the career artist, playing the long game and remaining as eminently likable as her songs.

Robert Ker is a freelance music writer in Portland. Contact him at:

bobzker@gmail.com

Twitter: @bobbker