Call it a curse. Jens Lekman's is a world populated by an endless stream of women. But not just any sort of women. No, these are the sort of women that inspire the most joyous of heartbreak in your mild-mannered crooner. There he is: hair mussed & glasses off-kilter, sitting in the corner of the cafe with his journal bookmarked once again; he's being torn in two. Moments ago he fell in love with the red-headed barrista who so nailed his order - when she scooted that cappuccino across the counter into his his writing hand, it was clear that there was a connection. For real. And now, while blissing out, unable to concentrate on his writing, his eye catches across from him in the love seat (just left of the rack of bread loaves and under the plastic lobster chandelier) the picture of divinity itself in the shape of the most finely featured brunette he's ever seen. And she's looking this way. But which way to go? It's tragic having to make such choices. Like Truffaut's The Man Who Loved Women, Lekman is a man forever at a crossroads between competing inspirations.

Some of the women have names (Silvia, Lisa, Julie, Maria); some don't (the chili cook in "The Cold Swedish Winter", the bread baker in the title track, the make out artist in "A Higher Power", for example). It's all part of Lekman's story. He loves to fixate on inspiration and has a special gift for not only finding it, but spreading it. His songs are each so different stylistically, each a classic in its own way. He employs each of the following as central features in his songs: horn sections ("Are The Light"), string sections ("Tram #7 To Heaven", "A Higher Power"), a capella singing ("Do You Remember the Riots?"), steel drums ("Happy Birthday, Dear Friend Lisa"), piano balladry ("If You Ever Need a Stranger"), and mandolin ("Silvia").