The tune hypes the new ultra thin Mac Air laptop, but there's nothing thin about the voice, nor the talent behind it. "New Soul" (of the self-titled cd released initially in France on Tot ou Tard (sooner or later) Records, and now available via Atlantic) is the highly infectious, utterly engaging chef d'oeuvre---all 30 seconds of it featured on the computer ad---courtesy of Yael Naim.

Hate to be the bearer of bad news to the Mac Air minds (Air Heads?), but the cut is SO effortlessly endearing, it overshadows the intended object of our purchasing affections and/or affectations. Precisely HOW overshadowing? By the next commercial, I couldn't recall who was actually footing the bill for the melodic ad. But for weeks after first witnessing the TV spot, I'd mercilessly hum that teaser-tune (or at least tried to). When pressed for the tune's origins, I'd say: "It's from some new campaign for the Gap�or maybe a new cell phone plan."

That wasn't the only song-related bit (byte) of misinformation. I was convinced "New Soul" was the latest quirky offering from equally quirky (and au courant commercial jingle darling) Feist. Discovering who she WASN'T, didn't dampen my obsession with pinpointing her unusual accent. I figured I could detect some hints of Scandinavia or maybe even Iceland (listen to cut #11 then tell me she doesn't sound like she shared Bjork's English language coach. I dare you). Then came the introduction of the entire album and finally, the true revelation, not only regarding her name, but also her multilingual background. Yael Naim is Paris-born (to Tunisian parents) and Israeli-raised.

If your knowledge of Hebrew music is limited to Fiddler On The Roof, it's high time to broaden your cultural horizons. And Naim is the ideal tour guide for the challenge. Songs on this two-years-in-the-making kaleidoscope of emotions include a mini-United Nations of musical/linguistic offerings, including French, English and Hebrew. Bonus points for irony: All 13 worldly, multi-cultural, multi-lingual songs were recorded in Naim's Parisian flat. (Sadly, no hint in the liner notes as to whether the birds opening cut #8, were also Parisian or simply on a lay-over from Nice�or Brooklyn.)

But enough already with the kvetching about geography and genealogy. On to still more twists, turns and the musical equivalent of smacking your forehead with the heel of your hand and asking of everyone and no one in particular: "Wow! Why aren't the charts filled with more non-English talents?" Or more specifically, "Why haven't we heard more of Naim---in whatever language she chooses to grace us with?" Velvety sensual, child-like magical, brazenly honest, consistently unique--- whatever the persona Naim's voice, melody and lyrics embody, the result is an other-worldly journey into this artist's surprising yet solidly gratifying range of experiences and emotions.

And absolutely topping the List of Unexpected Gifts: Naim's unique (apologies for the over-use of "unique" here--- just one of those words without synonym, which, come to think of it, is what makes it so�well�you know) take on "Toxic". Yes, THAT Toxic. Scratch that. This isn't only unexpected, it's down-right shocking to discover someone who can turn a Britney Spears hit (of sorts) into a revelation of musical cockiness, originality and which ranks several notches above the traditional pop chart "cool" rating.

What ISN'T shocking ---considering her natural musical and lyrical transitions, evolutions and layering---is the foundation or source of her talent: she studied classical music for 10 years before her introduction to the music of the Beatles, Joni Mitchell and Aretha Franklin. First, consider the dual discipline derived from a two-year stint in the military (mandatory for Israeli women) and the equally grueling discipline of touring with her band. Now, add that to her life and career-altering partnering with multi-talented West Indian musician David Donatien. The result then becomes quickly obvious: Yael Naim has earned all current and future acclaim.

But if Naim's five-star rating isn't enough to send you racing to your nearest CD store or laptop (just how are you reading this anyway?) because you're stuck in the traditional (and overcrowded) "But who does she sound like?" review compartment, here goes: Think Fiona Apple with a subtle yet sensual aftertaste of Tori Amos and the aforementioned Feist at the core (Get it? Apple? Core? Sorry.) of a wholly refreshing, rejuvenating, border-less pastiche of colors that would make Farrow and Ball blush (a #132 apple blossom rose, perhaps) pride. Cuts that are particularly repeat-button worthy? The Edith Piaf �tinged opening track, the haunting yet irresistible 6th cut, which may be best described as: akin to the tentative first bite of an unknown exotic fruit; you don't know what to expect but the suspense only enhances the promising juiciness of the experience, and also the tricky but effective paradox of the sparse yet ample elegance of the acoustic guitar featured in the intro to cut #9.

Finally, (and with apologies for the following jingle-like rhyming rhetoric, and the shameless call-back to the translation of Naim's initial French label):