What could a female pop vocalist possibly offer a fan of hard-hitting hip hop and heavy metal? If her name is Lily Allen, she can offer a lot. I discovered this saucy Brit while working under the bright lights of Pacific Sunwear. What was first background noise that prevented me from hearing customers became my infatuation with her emoted Mockney voice in her hit single “Smile,” the first track on her 2006 debut album, Alright, Still.

Allen returns with her sophomore effort, It’s Not Me, It’s You (apparently, she is a fan of commas in album titles). Released on February 10th in the US, the album dives into a foray of soft textures illuminated by her silky voice.

Much like in her first album, Allen’s lyrics come first. The words drive the music into somber webs of reflection tinged with biting humor. In “Him,” a balancing act of acoustic guitar and synthesized bounce, she thinks about God and asks “Do you think he’s ever been done for tax evasion?”

Allen touches on similar themes from Alright, Still with enough meditative conviction to out-snark Alanis Morissette. From an array of relationships, both romantic and platonic, to “normal” life, she comments on the state of her world. The third track, “Not Fair,” gallops through a country-western corridor suggesting a maverick attitude from a selfish ex-lover when she sings, “You never make me scream,” and “All you do is take.”

The first single from the album, “The Fear,” matches a melancholy sense of paranoia and desperation to the crystalline electro-pop sound that dominates much of the album. However, Allen does not fear straying from her traditional sound as evidenced by her gypsy romp, “Never Gonna Happen.” Here, the plodding stomp bears honesty as she simply tells off a suitor, “I don’t love you.”

This leads into her most explicit venture, “F— You,” a juxtaposition of power pop melodies and outright humorous lyrics bolted into the chorus as she taunts, “F— you, f— you very, very much.” The Davy-Jones-on-the-Brady-Bunch intro adds to its ridiculous charm.

After weeding through her insecurities and defiance, Allen still proves she can appreciate the little things in life. “Who’d Have Known,” reminiscent of a Beatles ballad, shows the lighter side of her love trials as she even laughs smugly when “Today you accidentally called me baby.”

Allen is most effective in her commentary of drug use in the opener, “Everyone’s At It.” She evades excuses while conveying a sense of the pervasiveness of the drug culture when she admits, “I’m not trying to say that I’m smelling of roses, but when will we tire of putting shit up our noses.”

It’s Not Me, It’s You continues in the vein of Alright, Still, but Allen is still growing and learning. The lyrics relate Allen’s inner turmoil, and the album’s only fault is that the songs lack the bona-fide hit of the hook-laden “Smile.” Allen once again charms with an earnestness rare in a sex appeal-driven pop world. The album creates an intense space of honest music that appeals through reflective sensibility.

Recommended for: fans of cerebral pop, Fanta drinkers, and people who sing in showers. Not recommended for: Nickelback fans, skateboarders, George W. Bush, and pitbull owners.