Being the consummate music-reviewing professional that I am, I try not to get attached to the musicians whose albums I review. Emotional involvement sucks away at your objectiveness, and soon you're giving 9.9s to anybody with a nice butt and a smile. It's just not worth it to get wrapped up in these people, but this time I can't help it: I have a crush on Tami Hart.

If I'd gone to high school with Ms. Hart, I'd have passed her notes during algebra class and doodled on her notebook. I'd have walked with her in the hallways and gone to the local coffee shop to see her every time she played. I'd have taken the long way home because it goes by her house. I'd be goofy, harmless and an emotional wreck, all because of Tami Hart and one little, amazing album, No Light in August.

But all my young lust would be useless, of course, since Tami plays for Mr. Lady Records. In case you don't see the conflict here, Mr. Lady is a small label of lesbian musicians operating out of Durham, North Carolina. A-ha! Once again, chance has made me a tragic, lovestruck fool. It's okay, though, because Mr. Lady is a worthy suitor. After striking gold with the recent release of the Butchies' excellent Population 1975, the label has now proven it has an uncanny eye for spotting talent.

Tami, like the ladies in the Butchies, has one remarkable album under her belt. In No Light in August, Hart has collected an absolutely stunning group of songs that tackle such sunny topics as heartache, loneliness and the anger of being a social outcast. Consisting of little more than an acoustic guitar, her cherubic voice and assloads of talent, No Light is an album of rare quality and vision, a bold, raw peak into one young girl's mind, rendered in crystal clear precision by beautiful music and intelligent, poetic lyrics. An album this good is something for any artist to be proud of, but it becomes all the more amazing when you realize that these wise words, inspired harmonies and this wounded voice all belong to an 18 year-old from the rural south. Ah, miracles.

The problems Hart faces are common ones-- ones we all deal with-- but it's rare that they're dealt with such honestly, and even more rare that they inspire such great art. Most of us just get drunk and watch TV instead. 12 tracks of passionate music in all, No Light in August sounds like a guidebook to teen-angst if the teens were intelligent, impassioned and articulate. And if the angst were over topics people could actually get behind.

"You're No Good" is lust boiled down to its most basic elements. When Hart sings, "You're no good/ You're no good/ Baby, you're not fucking good," it's more than just a variation on an old Carly Simon tune. She hits that "fucking" with the pain only an 18 year-old can muster, and it shivers the spine, pure and simple. "The Kids That Call Us Clowns" is a truly menacing, sinister song written from the point-of-view of a pair of social outcasts who vow to strike back at their abusers. The pure helplessness and rage that makes people lash out at the world is epitomized in the lyric, "We can/ Find a way to kill the kids that call us clowns/ Nothing's gonna keep us down." Even with our media-drenched psyches, Hart manages to push through our jaded "seen it, done it" reactions to violence, making this simple threat genuinely chilling.

What makes this album a massive achievement is the originality and inspiration in Hart's songwriting. The problem with most acoustic albums is that they buzz along at one speed: drowsy. The songs may be good, but an hour or more of deep yearnings set to mid-tempo music that rarely alters its beat, instrumentation, or tone wears out its welcome pretty quick. Luckily, Hart manages to keep her music fresh and interesting throughout.

Although No Light in August showcases mainly acoustic-y sounds, Hart brings in outside genres on every song, filling the emotional and entertainment gaps that acoustic guitars just can't reach. If Hart had mentioned tearing the government a few more times, or hitting a cop with a baseball bat, "Disclosed" could have qualified for official punk song status. As it stands, she'll have to be happy with the label of rough, fuzzy rock. The songs' tempos mutate from track to track, lazily riding along on introspective love songs like "Disdained" and "Re-Birth #1," and speeding up slightly into the toe-tapping, energetic range on numbers like "Drunken Love Song." The one thing that remains constant is Hart's amazing sensitivity, bravery and songwriting skill.

If there's any justice in the world, Tami Hart will be recognized for her massive talent and for the work and soul she put into No Light in August. After releasing two unusual and wonderful albums in a row, I'm tempted to say that Mr. Lady has struck lightning in the same place twice. And with a gang of artists this talented on their team, this little label looks like it's just getting started.

-Steven Byrd