I always find it kind of funny when critics hail albums or movies as "The Best of 2002!" or "The Funniest Film of the Century" when both have only just begun. While it's still early in the year to make such mundane declarations, I'm going to jump on the wagon: Andrea Maxand has produced one of the finest albums of the year. With just a guitar, brilliant lyrics and shining vocals, Maxand has created a radiant debut with Angel Hat. "Velveteen" gleams with pretty harmonies and contemplative strumming as Maxand sings of inner conflict and standing in (your) own way; the song's understated beauty lies in the elegant balance of its sweet melodies and Maxand's soft singing. "When God Shuts The Door" increases the pace; its abrasive guitar playing and cracking drums are more agitated. Maxand's voice wavers from angelic fragility to biting sourness as she sings, "It happened again / Like every time you speak too slow / When god shuts the door / He crawls through the window." Maxand's pixie voice gets a bit of venom injected into it as the tone matches the relentless feel of the lyrics. "Peace On TV" slows the tempo a bit, as Maxand's breathy vocals soar above her simple strumming. While the guitar melody gently builds under her poignant lyrics, the song takes on an air of a quiet lullaby; it's fragile and reflective, but never seems insincere. Maxand's voice and guitar carry most of Angel Hat, until Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla steps out from behind the controls and lends a hand (or two hands, as he plays bass) on "Learn How To Crawl." The unobtrusive bass rounds out the song's sound, offering an intriguing contrast to the album's generally spartan sound, and proving that Maxand's songwriting ability can work with a group dynamic, rather than depending upon the intimacy of a solo performance. Maxand has a powerful knack for composing compelling songs. Angel Hat demonstrates her dexterity at deconstructing dreary pop songs and recrafting them as distinctive and delightful tunes, shimmering with glossy harmonies and abounding in greatness. If you're enjoying the critically acclaimed "return of the singer/songwriter," but are tired of the immature/auteur attitude, you simply have to check out Andrea Maxand. No pretentiousness. No big ego. No hype. Just outstanding music.

Like Cat Power's Chan Marshall with subtly trenchant humor in place of her gauzy otherworldliness, Andrea Maxand is a songwriter whose hypnotic recordings take a couple listens to really make sense. Relying, more often than not, on only her voice and scruffy electric guitar to carry her songs, Maxand has an affinity for relatively simple melodies that are supported by counterintuitive collections of chords, and the end result can be anything from a charmingly bent lullaby ("Peace on TV," which recalls Yo La Tengo at their most subdued) to a clattering racket ("Spun," which ratchets up the tension via a mechanical tape loop). She's at her best when she's at her most aggressive, actually: the magnificent clenched-teeth rumblings of "Survival of the Sentiment" and the fuzzbox-powered "When God Shuts the Door" can't help but overpower some of the sweeter songs, like "Velveteen." Luckily, Andrea's savvy enough to keep even her prettiest songs from becoming treacly by injecting her lyrics with a regret that wavers between exasperated and accepting. And better still, she has a secret weapon in producer Chris Walla, who proves he is as resourceful at capturing Maxand's minimal style as he is with the sunnier pop of Death Cab for Cutie and the Prom. It's all deliberately unostentatious music, which I fear might tempt people to overlook it. Don't. Angel Hat is the equivalent of seeing a coffeehouse singer who sucks you in so thoroughly that you don't even notice your mochaccino's getting cold. Grade: A-