It's a harsh reality, this business of labelling people. This guy's a hot country act with a dash of Roy Orbison retro. This little momma's leaning towards the blues, but with a Janis Joplin sound, only played on 45 speed, maybe faster.

You see how it gets ridiculous? Ah, for the day when newspapers can transmit songs into your head while you read.

Nonetheless, playing the Arden tonight in front of Rita Chiarelli, smart and soft-spoken Lynn Miles has been firmly pegged as a longtime coffeehouse folksinger ("You don't have to print my age if you don't want.") Her songs are frankly depressing. Depressing, if you're in a good mood, that is.

If, for some reason - you know, pick one - you've been a little down in the last year, she's just the thing to listen to. Nectar for the ears of a weeper.

I ask her what went wrong. And if it's right that she's best described as someone who basically invents sad music.

"I think it's true. I don't think it's a bad thing to do, either," she says. "Sad is more in the shadow, and there's something more honest about it. It's easy to make happy songs."

The point is ironic when compared to a recent See Magazine interview with Steve Harwell of Smash Mouth, who said, "It's really easy to be depressed. Let me tell you that it's a lot harder to be happy, and we're trying to be happy."

Miles laughs at the comparison.

"You just have to write what you know," she smiles. "I probably tour about 15 states in a year. It is a lonely haul. In fact, I've just decided I can't do it anymore. When you're driving, it's good to be with somebody who appreciates the tree if you appreciate the tree, you know what I mean?"

Yours truly has driven on long road trips with a couple of musicians, mostly to keep them company beyond books on tape.

There's a big difference between cramming the distance from point A to point B in a certain length of time, and the same behaviour with a three-hour show in front of a crowd at the end of it. You have to pace yourself.

Miles agrees. "I usually like to keep it under five hours on the road. When you get out of the car, you're staggering. It's tough. I shouldn't make it sound so bad. I love it.

"I would have stopped doing it if I hadn't loved it. I talk to my other friends and I have more freedom than anyone I know."

On Miles's album Unravel sits one last irony. The title track is catchy and upbeat. So there. I guarantee you'll be charmed by her if you come to the Arden tonight, unless you're in a great mood or something weird like that. (More on: Lynn Miles).