A stylistic departure from her previous work as a Tom Waits/Captain Beefheart singer-songwriter sound-alike, Nobody’s Sweetheart is a strange find. After a Europe-based career spanning two decades, Dillon’s four previous records lie either unreleased or at the edge of obscurity, making this one her most accessible. But what is ultimately rare about Dillon’s music is her set of pipes; at intervals she sounds like Kate Bush, Sinead O’Connor, and Joanna Newsom — all women with unique, acquired-taste voices — while singing like a seven-year-old on helium. Range-shifting, breathy vocals emanate from downbeats and slow lounge tracks that truly require a will to want to hear them through. Ambient and catchy at best, Nobody’s Sweetheart fails to produce any real flavor, design, or emotion — either in Dillon, me, and presumably, you. It’s an ultimately incomplete, almost accidental release.