There's something special about the digipak cases. The way the cover is an integral part of the record, not a piece of plastic intended to isolate the disk away from the rest of the world.

Where is this record going to fit in my collection? Good question. From the lyrics, perhaps amongst the Morissettes and Luscious Jacksons of the Angry Young Women section. From the instrumentation, emphasising plucked strings and bassy clarinets, it's a good fit for the nascent Dinner Jazz category. Perhaps I'll split the difference and stick it alongside Amos and Jewel in the Modern Poets area.

It's actually difficult to pick out stand out tracks based on only a few listens: every track has a depth and complexity that gives it extra layers each time round. The discordant bad sex song, O My My, is a clear highlight, even if the lyrics remain incomprehensible when read along with the lyrics in hand.

The self-improving, I'm better than this mess of a country, political stream of consciousness on Evolve is another highlight, though Melissa Ferrick does this sort of thing with a little more bluster, and perhaps a touch more entertainment yet.

On most albums, the tracks just over half way through are the worst of the bunch. It's a holdover from the days when records came in two sides, and track B1 was invariably the rubbish one. Showing her distance from the regular record industry, DiFranco puts the best tracks halfway through. Shrug and Phase are two tunes linked by a common theme, describing the end and the beginning of a relationship.

The album tails off somewhat after this point, though I have to mention the ten minute jazz session with overlaid societal rant that makes Serpentine. Long and endless and slightly devoid of form.

It would be a mistake to let this detract from a unique work. There are far too few people who can successfully noodle over lazy jazz beats, and that is DiFranco's role in the world. Once heard, rarely forgotten.