Texas, especially Austin, has more singer-songwriters than it needs, or than we need. It's easy to be cynical about them. The movement began as a development from the folk scene, and early figures, notably Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt, were deservedly praised. In time, though, the music grew stale -- at least to my hearing -- because overwhelmingly it felt rooted no more deeply than in the work of other Texas singer-songwriters.

By contrast, Heather Little deserves a hearing. By Now takes us out of the ordinary. Stylistically, it absorbs folk, country, rock and mature pop, cliche-untainted and smartly conceived, not something to play in the background but to be listened to as if someone were telling you a compelling story from which you will emerge wiser.

It is also reliably melodic, a virtue not often encountered in the competition. She is an outstanding communicator of emotion, sometimes ominous, sometimes longing, sometimes both at once. The feelings may be familiar, but the context in which they appear often is not. It can be a complex human situation in which strong emotions are drawn, at times bewilderingly, from the singer.

Few songwriters think like Little, through whom refreshing creative breezes blow.

Consider, for example, the brilliant "Transistor Radio," which is about precisely that and much more (war, family, broken ties, addiction, memories; a novel's worth of living in 6:17). In common with all great songs, it pulls you inside it and holds you for the duration. I hear a lot of good stuff over a year's listening, but nothing quite like this.

This is the part where the reviewer asks why, if she's that great, the reviewed isn't famous. She is known to the relatively more prominent Patty Griffin, Leslie Satcher and Ronnie Bowman, who accompany her on several cuts, clearly to honor her not enough-appreciated talent. Maybe she's just too intelligent, or perhaps too intense, for the casual music consumer. Yet, in a time of overwhelming stress, Little feels comforting without offering up anything but hard reality with commanding authority. And, I might add, a kind of brittle beauty. Everything here feels like true life.