IMAGE: Laura Domela

[NU-ROCK] I've often regarded Storm Large as a glorified karaoke singer. A highly talented, gorgeous and electrifying karaoke singer, but a cover artist, nonetheless. And her latest release, Ladylike, Side One—the first in a two-part meditation on the true meaning of being a "lady"—confirms the notion that Large's greatest strengths lie in her reinterpretations of others' tunes.

The record's opening track, "Beautiful," begins with a guitar line reminiscent of "Stairway to Heaven" and Large observing, "She was over the top/ And out of control," which describes Ladylike pretty perfectly. Though it seems Large's rock-'n'-roll heart is in the right place, her predictable stories fall flat: "Beautiful" outlines the life of a "troublemaking" young girl who turns lemons into lemonade (ugh); another discusses the satisfaction of rubbing your post-fat girl hotness in the face of dudes who once shut you down. And her tales' obnoxiously nu-rock soundtracks (which, to be fair, are expertly executed by the Balls) are saved only by Large's undoubtedly powerful, impressively flexible voice.

If there's one thing (aside from that voice) Large has going for her, it's personality—and Ladylike is oozing with it. But the forms it takes either enamor or repulse. The above-mentioned "Fat Chick's Revenge," for instance—with its brazen butt-rock guitar and snotty lyrics ("In your face/ Mr. I'm too cool" is a direct quote)—unfortunately paints Large in the gimmicky, tough-girl aesthetic of her own design. And the title track (which, thanks to Large's stint on Rock Star: Supernova, features Dave Navarro on guitar) glorifies typically "unladylike" behaviors in an "anything you can do I can do better" girl-power rant that fans are likely to eat up. But wouldn't it be more satisfying if Large did, instead of tiredly bragging about what she could do?

Musically, Ladylike is full of the kind of chugging guitars and hard-rock riffs (and occasional vocal growling) that give modern-rock radio a bad name, which is probably why it's a welcome relief when the album finishes off with a cover of the Pixies' "Where Is My Mind?" (And it comes after "Under You," a semi-sweet rock ballad that's hands-down the best Large original on the record.) Normally, finding such a classic on a disc of well-played but mediocre fodder would seem blasphemous. But its inclusion just cements the idea that, when you've got a super-strong voice and an absurdly captivating stage presence, it's best to apply those things to songs that aren't obnoxious to begin with. With Storm Large, less is truly more.