Oh, that soprano! Sweet and true like Nanci Griffith with lyrical twists of Shawn Colvin and Joni Mitchell, Vicky Pratt Keating really deserves a likening to Vicky Pratt Keating and no one else. It's her voice, though, that I want to tell people about, and I get stuck trying to compare her where there is no real comparison. I want people to hear the sureness, the softness, the strength supported by tight interlocking of banjo, uillean pipes, bazouki and guitar. Keating's deep and thoughtful poems on Blue Apples are underscored by the wooden-rich sounds of cello, viola and mandolin. It's a sound that is so tight I couldn't pull it apart if I tried. Webs of acoustic pop/folk rivet down my spine and I discover I've had the CD on loop for hours, always able to find something, hear something more, subtly spilling forth from my speakers and filling the room with hopeful, delicious songs.