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“This is making no sense to the average listener,” Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson tells the listener, interrupting her own song, “Jamie Oliver Petrol Station,” about a minute in. “Let me try to explain myself in a few words.” This is CMAT in a nutshell: singing about her disdain for celebrity chef Jamie Oliver (“that man should not have his face on posters”) but then catching herself—”OK don’t be a bitch / The man’s got kids / And they wouldn’t like this”—all against a twangy, orchestral pop backdrop.

EURO-COUNTRY is CMAT’s third album, and she says it’s her most “country” record yet. That’s true, in a way, though it’s an Irish version of country—more like The Waterboys circa Fisherman’s Blues filtered through a distinctly modern lens. Tracks like “Tree Six Foive” (that’s “3-6-5” with an Irish accent) and “When a Good Man Cries” lean most heavily into the genre, but for the most part CMAT remains straight-up pop. “I don’t know anyone that’s making anything that’s like my music,” she told MOJO recently, and she’s not wrong.

The country-ness really comes through in Ciara’s lyrics, which are personal, emotionally rich, unexpected, and often laugh-out-loud funny (but never novelty). She’s got the same wit and attitude as Reba McEntire or Dolly Parton in their prime, and she’s just as quick to poke fun at herself. “I’m a writer, I don’t do crushes,” she sings on “Janis Joplining,” following it immediately with “I do problematic attentions.” She can also devastate with heartbreak, like this verse from “Lord, Let That Tesla Crash”:

"My memories are loaded with what I wanted

But I couldn’t have with you

That picture’s burnt on my TV

Now I watch Coronation Street through ghosts of you all neon green"

The hook quotient is just as high as the one for one-liners and there isn’t a forgettable song on EURO-COUNTRY. Produced by Oli Deakin (who also worked on her debut If My Wife New I’d Be Dead), the record is lushly arranged and a showcase for Ciara’s acrobatic voice, which can bellow, side-eye, or soar. Especially striking are the harmonies, which at times approach Kate Bush/Kirsty MacColl levels of gossamer, particularly on the Dusty Springfield-esque “Paint a Sexy Picture for Me [sic],” the album’s most undeniable song.