"We hope you like our embroidered outfits," begins Laura Veirs. "We went that extra mile." She is referring to her floral dress and the suits worn by her band, the Saltbreakers. They're all unfeasibly decorated with natural scenes: the bassist wears a particularly lively number depicting scenes of meadows and butterflies. Nature, of course, is Veirs's forte, and dominates her music, including the new album, also called Saltbreakers. Born in the Pacific Northwest's great wide open, her predominant obsession with water provides some of her best metaphors: "There's a shadow beneath the sea/ A shadow between you and me."

There is literally a whole world in Veirs's music. Her voice seems to simultaneously express delight, excitement and fear - and gains another dimension when an echo pedal makes her sound like a siren Stevie Nicks. As drummer Tucker Martine plays an evocative bicycle bell, Veirs's songs explore childlike fantasy: "A mermaid floats by on the rolling green." Her heart seems full of wonder and sadness, as if she's both awed by the forces of nature and cowed by the knowledge that our time with them is transient.

Though she wears Nana Mouskouri spectacles and comes over like a wacky librarian between songs, her hypnotic songs are there to bathe in: Wandering Kind is an almost Cyndi Lauper-esque pop jewel; Nightingale must be the most sweetly troubling song of the year; Drink Deep could make a bottle of mineral water sound like the secret of the universe.

"Drink deep, my love, the water is gasping for your mouth," she sighs, beautifully. Hopefully she won't ever become a plumber.