The subject of sexuality is one that comes up often with Neko Case.

As the two of us were riding a city bus through downtown Seattle on the way to her place about a month ago, she turned to me and asked: "Why don't reporters ask me if I'm a lesbian? No one ever does. I sing about women all the time, I play with them. Who cares about all that marketing stuff. You can read that in the press release, anyway."

Well, not everyone has the press release, so let's dispense with that information, or some mutant version of it. Born American, Neko Case is a machine of a woman who belts out words like flying leopards, claws and all.

How's that for mixed metaphors?

I'd lay down a twenty on her in a cage match against almost any hot country star, and she sings with a passion that's almost disturbing. Her new record, Furnace Room Lullaby, is getting press all over the world, as it should. Time magazine is trying to get hold of her when we do our phone interview, but she's good enough to call me first.

She's a hell of a photographer on top of her singing career and she's unsure about where this is all taking her; if this is the right place to be. She's 29 and exhibits her raw, Slavic beauty when it suits her, which doesn't sound like right now.

"I'm tired," Case says. "South by Southwest (the music industry event in Austin, Texas) was really exhausting. I played three shows, if you call that a success. Mostly I did press while sitting 15 feet away from my friends that I wanted to talk to. I'm going to revolt soon. If there's one thing I learned, it's that all this press isn't really worth it."

South by Southwest is an orgy of music, press and promoters all wrapped into a well-sponsored festival. It's famous for its barbecues, drinking and instant music deals that make artists famous. Or so the story goes.

"None of that magical stuff really happens. It's just a big schmooze-fest. It doesn't mean anything. All you need to get good press is a good agent," she reports wisely. "Hopefully I can go home and rest now, get rid of my bad attitude."

As we toured though Seattle she tells me this great story about her neighbour, who plays funk at volume 11 all night. There's an old water tower on the roof of her older building, a historic landmark.

"This guy's a genius. He wants to impress his girlfriend, so he dives in. The only problem is it hasn't had water in it for like 50 years, and he breaks his leg. So they have to call in helicopters and airlift him out. After, they had to drill him out, of course, (wrecking) the monument. He's a really bad guitar player, too."

But, nonetheless, Neko needs her own bed again. She did Atlanta the night before our phone call and is moving on to St. Louis after that. Then to Edmonton for a sold-out show Wednesday at the Black Dog, of all venues, when she could have sold out a soft-seater in New York City.

"I have friends at the Dog, though. Are you going to make it?"

Wouldn't miss it for the world, Neko.

Finally, the question: Neko, are you a lesbian? "Not a very good one," she laughs.