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After a decade of swinging wildly between uncomfortable extremes (from indie-pop everygirl to country sweetheart and coke-snorting, heartbreaking ballbreaker) Jenny Lewis has finally come to terms with a certain dichotomy of existence. Unmolested by image obsession, The Voyager more cleanly runs the gamut of her personality, matching emotions with clear, corresponding aesthetics.

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After a decade of swinging wildly between uncomfortable extremes (from indie-pop everygirl to country sweetheart and coke-snorting, heartbreaking ballbreaker) Jenny Lewis has finally come to terms with a certain dichotomy of existence. Unmolested by image obsession, The Voyager more cleanly runs the gamut of her personality, matching emotions with clear, corresponding aesthetics.

The bespeckled indie charm of early Rilo Kiley re-emerges, filtered through the glimmer of other crossover contemporaries like Feist and Neko Case. In this way, Lewis cordones her less couth inclinations into the slick prism of Fleedwood Mac stylistics, finally approaching a sheen and structure worthy of a neo-Stevie Nicks.