A darling of in-the-know L.A. types, Mandell is the kind of noirish chanteuse who could show up in one of David Lynch's twisted dreamscapes. The title of her fourth record belies the fact that this ain't straight-up country. To push the movie analogy a little further, this is a surreal cinematic take on country, transposing banjo twang and keening steel with kooky kitsch accents (the wiggly vibraphone is a highlight) that sometimes sound like a 1950s tiki bar band. Mandell claims the disc was inspired by old Tammy Wynette recordings, and throws covers of tunes by the likes of Merle Haggard in with her own lush old-country pastiche. She has a deliberately chameleonlike delivery that channels particular personalities from track to track -- she sometimes recalls Patsy Cline, sometimes Sarah Harmer, sometimes Cat Power's Chan Marshall -- and erases any traces of the singer behind the songs, save for a dark, spooky undercurrent that ties the album together.