The elements that define her body of work thankfully remain intact: intelligent personal lyrics, courageous bare vocals, exquisite guitar playing, and infectious pop arrangements-but there's a broadened level of musical experimentation that takes us outside the familiar turf of Tails and Firecracker.

Lyrically, the songs delve into the mysteries of human incompatibility. How, whether in a relationship or not, we fail to see plain truth before our eyes; why we crave impossible ideals that inevitably disappoint. As is often the case with Loeb's compositions, her solid pop sensibilities make the songs easy to swallow and contradict the depth of lyrical longing within.

With this new recording, her first for A&M, Lisa has expanded her level of collaboration to include such heavyweights as Glen Ballard and Randy Scruggs. Dweezil Zappa adds an electrified influence to several tracks. The result is a richly textured stew, full of nuance and spice, but at a cost. It's a difficult to define subtlety, part recording and part performance, that I would call intimacy. Make no mistake-this is real, honest songwriting, but this album is a larger production than Lisa's earlier one-on-one sessions with producer Juan Patino, and as such, the flavor is different.

Still, it's great sound: exceptionally clean drumming, crisp acoustic guitars, and tastefully applied distortion. Splendid dynamics abound-Loeb is really good at this. And the best part: she's not afraid of a microphone, or of recording her vocals dry. In fact, the reverb on the single "Someone You Should Know" is an uncharacteristic surprise. Also unexpected is the Wurlitzer electric piano on many tracks.

In the confessional "The Way It Really Is," obsessive analysis of a relationship drives Loeb from pole to pole (panning from speaker to speaker) as she questions the validity of her own perceptions. Smothering vines of doubt and dreams twist from her imagination, fertilized by an unwillingness to accept anything at face value, and nurtured by the truth that we can never really know someone else. In the end, Loeb's sole voice amidst a sparse bed of strings is lovely, fragile, and utterly alone.

Twin acoustic guitars paint a gorgeous stereo image in "Underdog," a heartbreaking song about being invisible and misunderstood, and craving love. These sonic and emotional themes continue in "Everyday," where a moving Calypso beat and surprising chorus mate with delicious percussion to deliver a standout performance. This is Lisa Loeb and Nine Stories in full band mode, and from gleaming Fenders to delicate woodblocks to pounding floor toms, the dynamics are stellar.

By comparison, the sparse "Drops Me Down" recalls the Beatles, with a guitar solo that is positively Harrisonian. More derivative still is "You Don't Know Me," an 80s time warp with razor guitars and a metallic snare that sounds like a Brian May/Go-Go's collision. In "Too Fast Driving," squashed unison vocals reference 90s power pop, and there's a dreamlike break with fat bass and a flanged wall of sound that descends into something mental. "Payback," a soulful seventies jam must have been a blast to record, with nods to Rick Wright and Stephen Stills.

Certainly some listeners will find these songs incongruous, and they might make the album seem schizophrenic, but Loeb explains that these diversions pay homage to artists she grew up on. It's a dense, unusual section, but ah, the bookends . . .

By far the most striking songs on Cake And Pie are a pair of acoustic ballads. "She's Falling Apart" is an unsettling tale of a girl's eating disorder, and "Kick Start," which pleads with raw honesty for action against inertia, is a lyric that strikes chords universal about the state of the human condition. It's a wonderful a song that could transcend even this magnificent performance where drone flattops and subtle percussion leave air for Loeb's vulnerable, close vocals.

Having two desserts implies too much of a good thing, but Cake And Pie is not overly sweet. Inside each song is a woman desperate to connect. And while Lisa Loeb begs our indulgence of her experiments, we are ultimately rewarded with courses that comprise a full and varied meal. This is no mere confection.