First, you should be acquainted with the contractor here. Rankin goes by Jack River in song and on stage, a new Australian import with a string modern pop single releases intended to sink their hooks (pun intended) from a continent away.

"Fool's Gold" and "Ballroom" and "Limo Song" certainly accomplish what they set out to do on the surface level, but if that was the true end game here, our interest in Jack River's new album, Sugar Mountain, would wax and wane in fairly close succession.

If you haven't picked up on it just yet, let me state this clearly: Sugar Mountain is a slightly subversive album with deeper cuts are the true highlights. In one sense, Rankin is just as she appears, a young songstress living in the moment, flirting with others, dealing with the swell of early emotions. She's true to her life stage as she writes for the live one. In another sense, she's quick to draw you into her story—a vulnerable, exposed narrative that begs for repeated listen.

Pardon me for skipping the singles here, but the others are really too good to miss (and other outlets will sing the singer's praises for those tunes). "Confess" feels as raw as its title, a lyrical punch applied to this straightforward acoustic pop number:

I confess I needed you then
I've gone through every memory we ever shared tonight
I don't have the guts to carry on without you
When the storm breaks through,
I'll be standing there waiting for you

There's no empowerment anthem here, no raised fist showing off a defiant side. There's not even a sentiment of future hope or redemption. It's an admitted weakness that there's no way out of this desperate, even pathetic moment. And it sounds so fucking good.

Perhaps this depth is derived from the experiences shared via her own press, as her own bio tells the story of losing a younger sister to a "freak accident." Trauma jars us, shakes us, skews us for more than a season. It's not surprising in some ways to know there's something concussive in Rankin's background. Something possesses these songs, an ethos from a deeper well, even as they're all packaged as blissful pop structures. They are and they aren't. She is and she isn't.

"Constellation Ball" is the album's highlight and it's not even close. The penultimate track is a driving acoustic song that grieves the difference between the present and the past, the way things are versus the way they should be.

Are you in love with the butterfly...
Take a picture as she falls to fly
We used to be so free

Rankin's great achievement here is not her ability to write sad songs or to reflect on deeper things or to draw you into her narrative. It's that she's choosing modern pop vehicles to deliver them. They're all slightly askew, hinting at (and offering) something more for those searching for it, while remaining sweet enough to go down as easy as you'd expect of something called Sugar Mountain.