Extraordinary Machine: A

I'll be the first to admit it: I love Fiona Apple. From my first introduction to her music - the melancholy, wry and beautiful "Paper Bag" - I have been perpetually hooked by her voice, her instrumentation, and her superb (always self-written) lyrics words. But more than that, as an artist she is a continually evolving wonder; from the opening rage of "Sleep to Dream" to the quiet finale of "I Know" Fiona Apple has taken an old standard - torch music - and constantly re-shaped it.

I may have listened to Tidal, her debut album, and thought that I was hearing a strong musician if not an exactly sophisticated and organized one (although to any who have listened to "Shadowboxer" or "Criminal" on repeat, feel free to disagree) but I was entranced at this 18-year old's large amount of talent. Next came When The Pawn..., her dazzlingly disturbed sophmore album, which managed the hefty feat of taking everything right in her music and separating it from everything wrong; it is no small thing to say she managed, and no smaller thing still to say the result was such an experience - jagged, raw, sincere, witty, dark, tragic - that I may never forget it.

Needless to say that after these two albums I was quite devoted to the Cult of Apple and then, nothing. She dissapeared from the music scene for six years until, finally, re-emerging with 2005's Extraordinary Machine - an album so true to the definition of "extraordinary" that it's been in consistent rotation on my stereo for going on two years.

It isn't so much on her third effort that Ms. Apple changes up her core formula (her anger is still front and center) so much as she has the window dressing. But in that minor change - if by minor I mean a new producer, Mike Elizondo, which I do - there is so much to love. This isn't to state that I found her previous collaborator, Jon Brion, to be of any offense but I've listened to those leaked tracks of his from the original Machine and let me just say: the result was not nearly as shimmeringly joyful, caustic, and memorable as this. From the soaring heartbreak of "O' Sailor" to the defiantly whimsical "Waltz (Better Than Fine)" the music surrounding the singer compliments her with delicious ingenuity.

And yet the singer taking center-stage is as worthy of recognition as her musical fancies. Her voice - a stewing, sullen, rough, cloudy, pouty, angry and sarcastic mix - still retains the impact of her two earlier albums (say what you will of her music elsewhere, but this girl can sing) while managing to add a surprising layer: happiness. Indeed on songs varied as the "Waltz", "Window" and the titular track, our classy damsel-in-distress now sports a measure of joy to go along with her spiky wit.

And of wit there is much (as well as a few other notable, necessary emotions). She throws out one-liners (better that I break the window/than him or her or me/especially me!) and put downs (I opened my eyes/while you were kissing me once.../and you looked as sincere as dog) with the same level of admirable blase and her narratives practically ooze sardonic venom. Don't think she isn' without heart - no, Extraordinary Machine is as much of a heartfelt confession as it is a scaborous tale of uplift and defiance. It is a ironic little secret that Fiona Apple is as much of a wounded romantic as she is an undiscovered protege of Dorothy Parker but there it is. She piles on the emotions onto her latest CD until you think she may sink from all that emotional baggage...and then she stays afloat.

But then she has always been a walking paradox hasn't she? Then to me what makes her such a talent and an enduring performer is that she parades her paradoxes, her confusing mental conondrums, with far more bruising honesty, droll wordplay and densely inventive arrangements than other similar self-conscious singer-songwriters. The final product, you'll doubtless find, is nothing less than wonderful.