Just as the sun's going down, in the glistening minutes that sit behind a late-April shower, Neko Case's Fox Confessor Brings the Flood will finally reveal its full potential. Until then, I feel a bit remiss in reviewing it; like a good bottle of wine, it's coiffable now, but it just hasn't quite hit its peak.

There are two kinds of mood music: music that sets a mood, and music you have to be in a certain mood to enjoy. Music that sets a mood can be anything -- if you're getting down to some heavy-duty smoochin' with your lady pal and throw on Rammstein or Wu-tang, you're a nutball, but I'm sure some of you nutballs out there do just that.

These records that require of their listeners a certain mental, chronological or social setting can sometimes frustrate. Would you play Led Zeppelin while falling asleep, or Nine Inch Nails at a frat party? Gee, I hope not. You see my point.

Case, the crimson-topped fireplug perhaps most famous for her work with Canadian supergroup -- and current indie band most likely to show up on your 15-year-old sister's iPod -- The New Pornographers, just dropped a very frustrating new solo joint. It's not that it's bad; in fact, it's a rather exquisite honey-and-tar-soaked country-dirge from start to finish. But it's a sad, slow, melodically elusive record, not exactly designed to put one in a good mood.

Kids these days (myself included) spend a lot more time tromping down the street plugged into their porta-jukeboxes than they do standing in front of a wall of speakers with a cup of tea, soaking in Joni Mitchell-esque poetics crooned over an impressionistic Nashville wash. And if you buy Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, stick it in your jambox and walk to sociology class, you might fall asleep on your feet. If you're watching headlights crawl through your open window as the afternoon turns to evening, however, you might just fall in love. It's this specificity of purpose that cuts Fox Confessor down a notch or two; it's a truly beautiful, well-crafted record that you are simply not going to listen to very much.

If you're only familiar with Case from her sprightly vocal turns on some of the New Pornographers' best tunes ("Letter From An Occupant," "All For Swinging You Around"), you'll be shocked by the relative lull of Fox Confessor. Ballad after slippery ballad call to mind to softer side of Carly Simon and Dusty Springfield, her tricky, occasionally alienating wordplay backed on many tracks by the hardly exhilarating strains of several members of Southwestern elevator-mariachi act Calexico.

There's not a plainspoken, upbeat, catchy tune in the bunch, and that can be more than a bit disheartening for anyone who likes a little rock in their country-rock.

But a few listens in, Case's songs begin to spread themselves out, their casual charms begin to reveal themselves slowly. Each one has at least a clever vocal turnaround or a sneaky instrumental touch to latch onto, even when they fail to grab you the whole way through.

Nevertheless, the quirky tunes and hazy vibe of Fox Confessor work only when you're ready for something a little sad and a lot slow. Consider yourself warned, and, despite its foibles, consider Fox Confessor recommended.

Grade: B-