Natacha Atlas is the perfect representation of my gratitude for Pitchfork. On my own, the likelihood that I would spend money on an album by a Brussels-born singer who combines Western dance-pop and Arabic music, and sings many of her strange songs in a Middle Eastern tongue, is... well, very low. The CD bins of the world ooze greatness, and Atlas would have been snagged in the early stages of my personal filter, the comb set to catch anything I once considered vaguely "cheesy." And brother, I'm here to tell you, the loss would have been mine.

But the Atlas promos arrived, and I'm a better man for it. Prior to hearing Atlas for the first time two albums back, my knowledge of the music from the cradle of civilization was limited to the guitar riff from "Kashmir," a handful of Muslimgauze records, and whatever was playing at Kan Zaman when I stopped in to get some falafel. I realize familiarity with Natacha Atlas records doesn't exactly change this. She grew up in Belgium, moved to London, and now lives in D.C.; she often sings in English and French; and I can't imagine this music gets any play at all in the Near East. Still, for a dilettante such as me, Atlas is an intriguing glimpse into an unfamiliar world.

Indeed, it's exhilarating to hear catchy, danceable pop music built from a different rulebook. For example, though the beats throughout Ayeshteni are varied with hip-hop, drum-n-bass and house flavors, they all have a propulsive syncopation that can be traced back to some distant djembe technique. The sweeping, bass-heavy strings that immediately identify a song as "Middle Eastern" are employed liberally throughout, imparting a dark, dramatic edge. The occasional saxophone breaks conjure images of klezmer. And Atlas' call-and-response vocal arrangements, where a chorus of believers answer her pronouncements, give tracks like "Shubra" and "Ashwa" a powerfully communal feel.

There are some curveballs on the album, where Atlas strays from her central ideas. One is the odd cover of Screamin' Jay Hawkins' "I Put a Spell on You." It has a nice, chunky beat, but it seems like it should have been spookier with the tools Atlas has at her disposal. "Ne Me Quitte Pas" is a Jacques Brel tune that nicely blends his theatrical style with Atlas' Belgian/Moroccan roots. And "Manbai" closes the album on a high note as Atlas' pristine voice is cut to ribbons and looped over an insanely warm and funky house beat. It's the most club-friendly track here, and one of the best, showing just how portable Atlas' vision is. The manner in which she imports large chunks of one musical world into another is inspired, and makes for an extremely entertaining album. I owe this one to Pitchfork.

-Mark Richard-San