Her chosen genre works to her advantage—she sounds more free and her singing more casual and clear, precisely because she doesn’t have the burden of being an American alt-country rocker. Additionally, Chambers inhabits an aesthetic long enough to elicit its essence. So what if covers such as “A Little Bit Lonesome”(Hank Williams) and “Still Feelin’ Blue”(Gram Parsons) are spot-on and compulsory? It doesn’t feel like a sycophantic suck-up masked in homage—they’re heartfelt and genuine.

The physical distance from such hallowed musical ground frees her in ways unavailable to current crop of No Depression alt-country all-stars. Case in point: The raw, growling bluesy rock opening title track, in which she declares “Barricades and brick walls won’t keep me from you / You can tie me down on the railroad track / You can let that freight train loose / Iron bars and big ole cars won’t run me out of town / I’ll be damned if you’re not my man before the sun goes down.” That’s tough stuff talking: posing as a badass is customarily a birthright of those with testosterone to spare. But more power to her, and pity the man who stands in her way. This gal has sass in spades.

Then there’s the Julia Hatfield-like radio-friendly tune, “Not Pretty Enough,” which might have rendered the Aussie a Lilith Fair candidate five years ago. Running down the self-esteem check list, she asks, “Am I not pretty enough? / Is my heart too broken? / Do I cry too much? / Am I too outspoken? / Don’t I make you laugh? / Should I try it harder? / Why do you see right through me?” That crack in her voice just bleeds sincerity; but as Chambers sings and plucks her way through the song, it becomes increasingly clear that she isn’t some helpless, hapless victim. She’s just asking for the good things she deserves.

Major influence (and major mutual fan) Lucinda Williams offers backing vocals on the finger-picked “On A Bad Day,” and their two voices, sweet and ragged, meld beautifully. But then there are tunes that aren’t clearly rooted in one musical camp or another—“A Million Tears” is a heartbreaker of a song that, thanks to spare drumming, gently rolls along a million miles of dusty road. You could argue that it aligns her with singer-songwriters like Shawn Colvin, but does it really? Skip down to “Crossfire,” a blues-fueled rocker that comes complete with a squalling guitar solo, and there’s yet another side to her. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter which ghost of the past she invites in for a visit. Somewhere in the midst of the mélange lies the real Kasey Chambers.