You might call it "freak folk," but better yet, it sounds like Jana Hunter's just letting it all hang out with honest, intimate tunes.

It's like eavesdropping on a personal conversation Hunter is having with herself. And the most refreshing aspect is she's not worried about fitting into an already established genre — hallelujah, praise the mother of all that is good music.

Rainy-day lyrics, a thumping six-string, haunting vocals and a tape recorder are all this Texan needs — no professional songwriting crew in dark suits or major record label holding her hand.

Hunter has been compared to Devendra Banhart, but only because they're both creating stripped-down music close to their intrinsic spirits. And yeah, Banhart was a co-founder of Hunter's record label, Gnomonsong, and the two have recorded an album together called "Self Titled."

"Blank Unstaring Heirs of Doom" is Hunter's debut album. The poetically pithy songs were written during a period of 10 years and recorded largely in Texas and mostly alone.

The first track — "All the Best Wishes" — is the perfect ditty for a last dance at a zombie masquerade. The reverb on the vocals is so eerie a black cat would run away scared.

Hunter just repeats the same six wistful lines over and over again until the last dead limb on the last softly sauntering zombie falls off. Turn this one up at your next Halloween party.

"Laughing & Crying" is an upbeat number with only catchy hand claps and intriguing lyrics about a dichotomy between human emotions. "Laughing and crying/ are the same thing/ Tearing at something/ with claws you can't see." These are not words to be taken lightly, as Hunter forces the listener to meditate over her progressive logic.

By far the most out-of-place song on the album is the last track — "K." The intro sounds like the bonus level in Mario Brothers.

The song keeps the same video game beat throughout, with Hunter spitting out some off-the-wall lines about Saturday afternoons, King Kong and painting eyelids together — it's great and is definitely in the spirit of Beck's stream-of-consciousness type of stuff.

The last line of the harmlessly eccentric song and album is, "I'd love to sell your backbone to my fans/ I'd be your favorite cartoon," leaving the listener with a beautifully perplexing warm, fuzzy feeling.

The classically trained songstress is refreshing in a musical arena where everyone wants to be the next Radiohead, the next Modest Mouse or the next band with matching haircuts.

She will perform at Mac's Bar, 2700 E. Michigan Ave. in Lansing, on Monday. Tickets are $8 in advance, and the show is 18 and older.