Her lyrics confined her as a spectator, or at best, the victim of longings the action kept happening to other people- her dad chased a man down the highway, her dog was the one dying violently, and it was always someone else buried in that graveyard.
On last year's excellent The Blackened Air, Nastasia- an acclaimed New York singer/songwriter in a world that thought it had too many- wrote songs that were cool and dusty. But just when the album's ready to fall prey to clichés, it turns into something far more intimate and complex- moodier, yet more subtle than her previous outings.
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