You don’t often see the Albert Hall on its feet jumping like this and rarely in the BBC Proms. From the arena and stalls around the stage to the gallery at the top everyone was dancing. And the cause of all this was the petite but power-packed Angélique Kidjo twirling, pacing and hollering on stage.

Kidjo (right), born in Benin, but long time resident in New York, is one of the great voices of Africa. Flamboyantly dressed in a flowery carnival gown, she was nominally celebrating the music of salsa star Celia Cruz.

But Kidjo is not just a singer but an activist animating what she does on stage.

“I thought salsa was just a male music because every band was made of guys, but then came Celia Cruz,” she said. “I realised that having success has no gender and we women can do anything we want.”

Her performance started with a santeria homage to Yemaya, the Afro-Cuban goddess of the sea, led by excellent Senegalese percussionist Magatte Sow. Kidjo was also backed by a punchy horn section of sax, trumpet and trombone. Joining as a guest artist was leading Cuban pianist Roberto Fonseca, who toured with Buena Vista Social Club for several years. While dance music was to the fore, there were moments when Kidjo’s magnificent voice could really soar, notably on Sahara, a tribute to the African roots of salsa.

However, it was not salsa but Once in a Lifetime, Kidjo’s version of the Talking Heads song, that brought the hall to its feet and it was Afirika, one of her signature songs, that lifted the roof. Most people knew the song and Kidjo encouraged the singalong. “I’ll just sing on top of your beautiful voices. Have we got a deal?” Both the dancing audience and Kidjo signed up and delivered. The encore finale was Pata Pata, Miriam Makeba’s anthemic song, which underlined Kidjo’s message that it’s Africa that’s at the heart of all this.

Trying to keep track of Angelique Kidjo’s career can be a dizzying experience; it’s also a frequently exhilarating one. Since her international breakthrough in the early Nineties, the Benin-born singer-songwriter, broadcaster, actress and activist has performed in numerous languages (Fon, Yoruba, French, English and Spanish among them), scooped several Grammys, and embraced styles spanning West African roots to reggae, rock’n’roll and more. There is a dazzling precision to Kidjo’s vocal power – so much so that her albums have sometimes sounded over-polished – but her concerts are continued proof of her exceptional, and unpredictable, creative range. Kidjo might be cast ad a “world music” A-lister, a formidable grand-dame of global sounds, but she is also a dynamic mover and shaker of boundaries.

Tuesday night’s late-night Prom was billed as a tribute to one of Kidjo’s formative inspirations: late legendary Cuban salsa vocalist Celia Cruz, whose legacy began in the Fifties, took in fruitful Sixties and Seventies Latin fusions with the likes of Tito Puente, and the Fania Allstars, and was an institution by the time of her death in 2003. Cruz’s own repertoire drew deep influence from the Yoruba songs that migrated with enslaved people to the Americas. Kidjo and Cruz might be international stars from different eras, but there are resonant parallels: both artists boast gloriously rich and expressive voices; both have been celebrated as queens of their scenes – and both spent years in exile from their birthplaces. Naturally, this was no ordinary covers revue; from the opening number Baila Yemandja, Kidjo evoked the West African roots of Cruz’s catalogue, backed by a slickly spirited international band.

A sudden, lithely funky workout of Talking Heads’ 1980 new wave number Crosseyed And Painless might have proved an odd diversion, but the headstrong flow of Kidjo and co made it a delight; as she told the audience, we were here not only to celebrate the mighty Cruz, but “the diversity of our humanity”. Indeed, she has previously covered David Byrne’s US art rockers – who themselves were hugely inspired by pan-African rhythms. Another Talking Heads smash hit, Once In A Lifetime, was added to the heady mix – and at one point, Kidjo flung her chic headwrap to the back of the stage, so that she could dance with even more vigour: gracefully flitting between regal swirls, Jùjú jiving, and punk-edged pogo-ing.

A surprise appearance from Cuban piano star Roberto Fonseca also brought intense elegance to several numbers, including the Afro-Peruvian classic Toro Mata (The Bull Kills). The incredibly bittersweet roots of these songs pulsed within a storming feel-good performance. Anyone shy about dancing was swept up by Kidjo, sashaying through the crows as she sang her own hit, Afirika. The finale added her homage to another icon, South Africa’s Miriam Makeba, with an immaculately brassy rendition of the much-loved anthem Pata Pata, sparking a multi-generational rave-up at the Royal Albert Hall. Musical worlds not only collided here; they felt joyously connected.