Out of Water comes to you steeped in the romanticism of Parisian cafe culture, the dynamism of Weimar Germany at the height of Bauhaus, and the pop sheen of a Phil Spektor production.

Loosely split between the European melodic tradition (Jacques Brel, Edith Piaf, Kurt Weil) and the Irish-American-British folk sentiment of yesteryear, Jones manages to bypass forty years of riff and rhythm dominance to create something new that stands outside the verse/chorus, guitar/voice straightjacket of most acoustic albums. Like her hero Tom Waits, she reaches for the dusty tomes of folk and blues, and reinvigorates them with a wit and originality for the modern age. Someday feels like a Somewhere Over The Rainbow for the Naughties, Walking in the Rain whispers to you like a lost Alan Lomax recording, and Of You Somewhere dispenses with much of its rhythm track in favour of a rich Beach Boys-esque vocal tapestry, accompanied by violin and sparse percussion.

The restlessness in Jones’ music reflects her colourful journey from being an Irish-born Dubliner, to adolescent 'Euro brat' raised in the cultural whirl of Brussels, finally refining her songwriting talent in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Emotionally, Out of Water is of and for the 21st century, the work of a young woman channelling the anxieties and frustrations of her generation using a clarity of vision that avoids the pitfalls of our appointed spokespeople, with her songs avoiding wallowing in neurosis or angst, instead choosing to embrace a love of nature and a desire not to see it destroyed.

Out of Water is an album brave enough to tackle the serious subjects of lost love and the dreary grind of city living, while still taking time to enjoy the simple pleasures of dragonflies in the sunshine and fairy tales about rats. So please: jump in, have a dip in Rebecca’s world, and hear for yourself.