Adalita - Adalita

As front woman for Geelong's Magic Dirt Adalita Srsen has been rocking for more than twenty years. She has left her contemporaries (Baby Animals' Suze Demarchi, and Superjesus' Sarah McLeod to name just two) lying in her dust. Despite the fact that Magic Dirt have been releasing music since 1993 this is Adalita's first solo release (other than a couple of tracks on the Suburban Mayhem soundtrack).

When members of prominent bands go solo they have a different road to travel. On the one hand they're going to want to tap into the fan base that they've spent years developing, but at the same time they will want to use the opportunity to do things they could never do as part of their band. This is especially tough for the singer, so much of a band's identity can hang on the vocal performance, which can make it hard to take a recognisable voice and try to say something different.

Adalita (the album rather than the woman) sounds little like Magic Dirt. In fact I probably wouldn't have picked this as the same vocalist if given a direct comparison. Adalita's vocals with Magic Dirt seem to have a rock swagger to them, she seems to almost spit them out with occasionally undisguised contempt (which one assumes is for life, not the lyrics or the fans). The vocals here are more personal and inviting. She's taken a leaf out of the book of some of the great female singer/songwriters and it's paid off brilliantly.

All the credit has to go to Adalita too. Other than occasional help on a couple of tracks, including one co-written with Magic Dirt lead guitarist Raul Sanchez, , she does the lot; vocals, guitar, piano, percussion, drums, she even produces (although co credit for production is given to late Magic Dirt bass player Dean Turner, who the album is also dedicated to).

The songs are simple and stripped back, often just a voice and a guitar. The result of which is that when you throw on your headphones and listen to the album it's like being in the room with Adalita. Which makes the album almost confrontingly personal. Most of the songs are concerned with obsession and lust, but there are a couple of notable exceptions. The Repairer sees Adalita embody a euthanising angel of death, and Invite Me seems to have her dreaming of the departed.

Adalita is an accomplished debut, although after this long in the business anything else would have been a shock. What is surprising is just how intimate the album manages to be. Cat Power and PJ Harvey should be put on notice that Australia has its own tortured chanteuse, and she's every bit as good.