Cat's 'Greatest' finds its soul

All this hype comparing Cat Power's latest album, ''The Greatest," to Dusty Springfield's ''Dusty in Memphis," is, well, right on the mark.

''The Greatest," out today on Matador, very well could be an update on Springfield's 1969 masterpiece, which took England's ambassador of soul to the very source of the music: Memphis. Chan Marshall, who records under the name Cat Power, has done the same thing here, though she lays more claim to Southern music than Springfield did. Marshall was born in Atlanta and her father was a blues musician.

But where ''Dusty in Memphis" was heavy on soul, ''The Greatest" gets a dollop of pop gloss, resulting in an organic, accessible sound that's sure to ripple well outside the indie-rock circles that have held Marshall in near-mythical stature since the early 1990s.

More than that, though, ''The Greatest" expounds on what has always been the bedrock of Marshall's sound: a forlorn sincerity swathed in romantic ideas about isolation and love. She sounds right at home on these new songs, all of which she wrote. It's the lustrous production, however, that will challenge diehard fans who have embraced Marshall for her sullen perspective. Consider it the Liz Phair Syndrome: We adore you, but we don't want you to be too happy. Or successful.

Much of the new aesthetic relies on Marshall's backing band, which features soul musicians who were among the architects of the fabled Memphis sound (think Al Green and Aretha Franklin at Muscle Shoals). With Mabon ''Teenie" Hodges on guitar, his brother Leroy ''Flick" Hodges on bass, and Steve Potts on drums, it's hard to go wrong. Marshall will even tour with these musicians, including a stop at Berklee Performance Center on Feb. 18.

To be sure, ''The Greatest" is a gorgeous listen, awash in orchestral strings, blues guitar, brassy horns, high-lonesome pedal steel, and Marshall's honeyed vocals that suggest more than tell. But this is by no means a dusky soul record suited for smoky back rooms. It's more R&B lite and -- gulp -- adult contemporary.

But who's complaining? It's all beautiful and expertly produced, starting with the title track, an ode to a would-be champion boxer. It quotes ''Moon River," but it's the chirpy backup vocals that give it its distinctly '60s vintage.

''After It All," with its jarringly peppy whistling and jazz riffs, sounds like the score to a ''Sesame Street" episode. But far more amiss is ''Where Is My Love," an atypically saccharine love song set to the swell and crest of lush Henry Mancini-styled strings. The lyrics don't help either: ''Where is my love/ Horses galloping, bring him to me." (Liz Phair Syndrome just kicked into high gear.)

''The Moon" gets closest to what you might expect a Cat Power in Memphis album to sound like. It's remote, laden with distortion and static, and made to sound like it was recorded in mono to extend the sense of isolation.

Only on ''Hate" does the mood shift to the melancholy Marshall of yore. Depending on your perspective, the song is either Marshall's confessional take on herself or a dig at what others must think of her. ''I hate myself and I want to die," she sings dryly, and then cleverly seems to tap into the listener's psyche. ''Do you believe she said that?"

But like Springfield, Marshall never gives away all of her secrets. That's probably why when a Cat Power record ends, we're inevitably left wanting more.