Finally: a much hyped debut that delivers what it promises. A singer who claims to be influenced by talents as disparate as Led Zeppelin and Erykah Badu, and -- shock and awe -- you can actually hear the Zeppelin/Badu influence on her album! The word here, however, is simply “influence,” as the gifted 27-year-old is clearly her own woman, and burning to share her own sound. Corinne Bailey Rae makes the intimate sound grand: at times it sounds like a few musician friends got together to jam in someone’s living room; at times, you just know that they rented an orchestra at Olympic Studios, just to cover the string arrangement for that day alone.

So much of today’s contemporary music is overblown. It’s refreshing then, to see an album confident enough to just give us eleven songs. Because, truthfully, if someone can’t be captivated in 46 minutes, they won’t be in 66. The first single, the wistful Like A Star, underlines the subtleties of a relationship that is both enchanting and befuddling. “I wonder why it is,” she sings, “I don’t argue like this/With anyone but you.” Anyone who’s ever loved one someone who habitually drives them batty will automatically feel understood.

Her strong alto and pensive lyrics make the Norah Jones comparisons easy, except this girl’s got soul. As gifted as Jones is, contemplative songs like Till It Happens to You and Choux Pastry Heart would be snoozers in her hands, yet Bailey Rae makes them come alive. The soulful element extends to her band, as the subdued but funky bass & organ on Call Me When You Get This dip into Brand New Heavies territory, with a string bridge that wouldn’t have been out of place on a late ’60s Marvin Gaye single. Meanwhile, the festive I’d Like To reminds us that good girls are just as lust-ridden as the rest of us.

And still none of this prepares you for the album’s masterpiece, Breathless. It is here, if you somehow missed it before, that the clarity of her voice stands out, and it is a voice that mocks her delicate name and countenance. Seriously, she’s on some 40, 000-drunk-people-at-the-concert-singing-the-hook-off-key-but-strangely-in-unison-at-the-top of-their-lungs genius by the end of this song. Seasons Change is an appropriate enough album closer, with its Proverbial laments on life, followed by a momentum-building refrain that spirals until the song’s close.

“Don’t know how I fell under this spell…,” is her lament on Enchantment. After giving this album a few spins, you'll be saying the same thing.