Kate Schutt

Kate Schutt’s newest album is supposed to be a departure from her "girl with guitar” roots, and the presence of some wonderful band-mates absolutely rounds out the sound. But while you can take the girl out of the coffee shop, you can’t take her away from her beats and poetry. The lyrics are complex and create a storyline, with hooks that push the text more than the tune. The sound overall tends towards jazz pop but each track seems to look at the genre at a slightly different angle — "Raining” narrows its eyes at some bossa and "How Much in Love” cocks its head at large stage lounge complete with singing strings. But most successful is the distant twang that saves it from soft jazz oblivion, particularly "Wrecking Ball,” which meshes the cotton-wrapped sound of a muted trumpet with a similarly buffered harmonica, and the swish of the brushes against the snare melds with the slightly metallic edge to the guitar. And throughout every change of type and style, Kate’s voice glides like oil on glass — no friction, just flow, with the barest sheen left shining in its wake.