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Wall of Sound :Scott D. Lewis 1999 ABC News Internet Ventures

After a four-year absence, Bif Naked returns on a major label, armed with a dozen dizzying ditties of life's dirty, demented, and dangerous side. Born out of wedlock in India in 1971, adopted by American missionaries, and splitting her formative years between Kentucky and Winnipeg, Naked sounds and looks like she's endured more than her fair share of tough times. Her voice has been sanded by shouting and cigarettes, her tongue is sharp and straight-shooting, and she sports a jet-black mane, full-arm tattoos, and lip and navel rings — a Pat Benatar for the millennium. In fact, much like Benatar in the '80s, Naked is an ideal mix of tough, cute, scary, sexy, and sweet.

The rip-and-run ride starts off on a symphonic note, then "I Died" opens up to a sawing verse-chorus-verse piece of molten pop in the best Benatar tradition. Gentle, melodic projections and reflections fill the ensuing "Any Day Now," punctuated with lazy, snazzy beats and Naked's voice finely layered over and over itself. "Spaceman" could easily make it into steady radio rotation, its arena-rock fire lit by cascading guitar licks and Naked's alternating gentle snarls and soaring singing that seems to be mocking No Doubt. A couple of the slower, burnt ballads lack the Bif bite, but there's always another polished scorcher to back it up. "Chotee" is a real-life rock and roll fable that chugs along with pop-punk flair, "Anything" could be one of Edna Swap's better tirades, and the final track, the sloppy, silly "Twitch," chronicles a bout with a bad-boy boyfriend. In the end, Bif Naked has laid her soul bare again, and all the young Turks and Turkesses would be well advised to listen-up.