Anne McCue's music is not alt-country. Anne McCue's music is not rock. So where does it fit? How can we possibly market it? How about we make a new bin, next to the "Soundtracks" and "World Music section", and we'll call it "Good Music that Transcends Genres", with the subtext "that you should be listening to"?

McCue's music might be loosely described as "pop", but only because of the clear-cut verses, choruses, bridges and hooks. Within this structure you'll note influences as diverse as The Byrds, PJ Harvey, Lucinda Williams, Hank Williams, Liz Phair and Jimi Hendrix (McCue actually covers "Machine Gun", gracefully holding down guitar duty...and holy hell, is it graceful). With McCue on both vocals and all guitars (did I mention how good she is?), backed by producer/bassist Dusty Wakeman and drummer Dave Raven, the band delivers consistently compelling performances, shored up by production just polished enough to make the album aurally pleasing without leeching away its live-recorded ambiance.

"Hangman" begins in a muted haze of string buzz and chucka-chucka strumming alongside a backbeat channeled somewhere between "Emotional Rescue" and "Nightclubbing". As McCue pleads her case in a Zeppelin-like homage to "Mr. Hangman", tripped out Venusian slide guitar abounds, and the tension mounts with the challenge, "I saw my baby in the pale moonlight / hey Mr. Hangman, won't you show your face tonight?" "Stupid" shows hints of Hollywood country, but rocks too hard to sit there comfortably -- it's roughly 75 percent Throwing Muses, 15 percent Shawn Colvin and 10 percent Shania Twain.

McCue's lyrics are the sort that inspire you to lie on the floor, moved by nostalgia or pain or both. On the heartbreaking "50 Dollar Whore", an ode to the broken-hearted and dejected, McCue's campfire-style delivery will hold you transfixed. "You said if I came home, you'd be my love again," she sings, "my very own / I drank through the nights, slept through the days / I should have known better than to sleep with you...again".

There is something wonderfully unnerving about an artist who gives the finger to trends and labels -- particularly an artist as multitalented as McCue. Her work is honest and deserving of your attention, regardless of your musical preferences. Roll will remind you of the first time you heard k.d. lang, went to the record shop to buy some of her stuff, found her work in "Country" section and scratched your head, confused as to what the hell the record execs were thinking...but swallowed your pride and bought it anyway. If you've never had that experience, fear not -- Roll will be your first time.