That cause? Ramos' eulogy (not that we're wishing any premature call for hers) is bound to be so long, it'll surely trigger a delay in the final proceedings. Already Ramos's list of "formers" is impressive: former punk priestess, former front woman for Fur (whose self-titled cd spit out a half dozen singles in the 90s), former guitarist backing up soloist Joey Ramone, former (and current) indie film queen, former New York City DJ.

The entries on her list of CURRENT accomplishments are just as impressive. Racehorse, Ramos's just-out-of-the-gate first solo CD features Ramos's child-like, coquettish voice, and lyrics that run from bright and sunny to dark, and irresistibly dreary. Then there's Romas's creepy go at Ray Davies' Art Lover. "I'm not a dirty old man, come to daddy�I want to draw pretty legs like a Degas ballerina," swoons Ramos, registering higher on the Ick Meter than the unsettling un-sibling-like public canoodling of Angelina and her bro James.

If you can see your way past that track (and you owe it to yourself to at least try), then expect to get sucked into Racehorse's stories/fantasies/dreams, AKA: lyrics. Written or co-written by Ramos, these lyrical brain synapses, seem to have been fueled by a night cap consisting of a creative chemical stew with a sadistic chaser of jalape�o peppers, egg yolk and any petroleum-based by- product in a spray can.

"Sick of Goodbye"--- is an unexpected but welcome blend of forlorn -cowboy-prairie-dog howling harmonies, courtesy of Jessica Margaret Dean and John Hansen.

Whether blatant or cryptic, the lyrics are consistently intriguing. And so it is with the line: "Sometimes I feel like I'm on Mars" which may explain a lot of things about Racehorse and Ramos. For example, if Ramos genuinely feels like she's on a different planet than the rest of us (and I'm not for a nano-second questioning her actual or cosmic whereabouts) then it's understandable that she can't quite seem to locate several notes, especially those hanging or dangling at the end of the lines. That's not unlike Dylan and Young, both loved for an unusual musical genius that somehow doesn't extend to what's considered ----traditionally or technically ----a solid singing voice. Yet the fact that Ramos is mentioned in the same paragraph as these two Greats should be reason enough to check her out.

Which leads us to the real noggin scratcher: Ramos's vocal skills are not exactly toe-curling, hair-raising or heart-tugging, nor the source of any other immediate positive bodily reactions. So what is it about Ramos that earns her a four out of five? As best as I can figure, this is it: You WANT to give her a good rating, if only to reassure her that not all of us music lovers have been brainwashed into acting and buying like Stepford Significant Others. You WANT her to believe that some of us actually PREFER music that hasn't been vanilla-ized (look it up�if it's not there, it should be. Start a petition, get involved already).

Ramos's voice, in all its glorious originality, cunningly textured lyrics, and irresistible magnetism is, (and if anyone out there is actually keeping track, I apologize for my by-now strangulation-worthy overuse of the following word) refreshing. It's so unlike anything else out there today, that you will be forgiven for initially considering switching the channel or flipping through your musical options for something familiar, safe and Ovaltine comfy cozy.

Resist the temptation. Of course, I make no guarantees that you definitely WILL enjoy Ramos after a first listen or even a third or fourth. But I WILL guarantee that you will be glad you at least gave her a fair shot. She's quirky without being gimmicky, gifted in a way that merits a whole new flavor or category of gifted, and more likeable than (I suspect I may have subconsciously swiped this from Dr. Phil, so again, my apologies) than a bucket full of floppy-eared, damp and ticklely-nosed, super-charged tail wagging puppies.