Considering her classical training in harp, her frequent appearances in Elizabethan garb and her continual love of anything medieval, it's quite possible that Joanna Newsom was born in the wrong century. It's this displacement in time that helps the 24-year-old Newsom defy convention with her second release on Drag City, Ys.

On this follow-up to 2004's The Milk-Eyed Mender, Newsom explores the extent of human emotion while demonstrating expert musicianship. All the while, she expresses her love for the medieval anywhere possible, notably on the album's portrait-like cover and even on its title, which refers to the English version of Atlantis.

In this tragic folktale, the city of Ys (pronounced "ees") is flooded after a young woman gives her lover the key to the city's gate. Rather than writing an album based on this story, Newsom just paid homage to English folklore in the title based on the similarities of her songs' progression to that of the tragic tale.

Even though the album has only five tracks, Newsom creates an interesting, masterful song of near-epic proportions on each one. A full orchestra, directed by Van Dyke Parks, accompanies Newsom's quick and intricate harp playing. In addition, Newsom's vocals, which can be likened to either Neil Young or an asthmatic child, powerfully emote her grandiose, ambitious narratives.

Not only is Newsom a brilliant musician and vocalist, but she also demonstrates lyrical mastery on the album's opening track "Emily." Like a true poet, Newsom weaves a delicate tapestry of words that Shakespeare himself would envy. "Though all I knew of the rote universe were those Pleiades loosed in December/ I promised you I'd set them to verse so I'd always remember," she reminisces, recounting a night of stargazing with her sister Emily, who appears as an additional vocalist on the album.

Lyricism aside, the instrumentation alone would make all 12 minutes of this track a pleasurable experience. Through the use of trilling, melodic violins, the orchestra ebbs and flows through a cycle of melancholy, jubilance and peace, intertwining perfectly with Newsom's signature warble and plucky harp playing.

The next track is the Aesop's Fable-esque "Monkey and Bear," which follows the romantic relationship of these two circus animals. Newsom begins this track in true medieval style, demonstrating her knowledge of madrigal harmonies. The whimsical, almost minstrel-like harping creates an appropriate setting for this tale of animal love. Despite the light-hearted instrumentation and harmonies, "Monkey and Bear" evolves into a story of true love and loss, regaling Bear's ability to emancipate herself from her confining fur and her stingy lover, Monkey.

Newsom then switches from the orchestral to the personal on the track "Sawdust and Diamonds." Unlike all the other tracks on Ys, here Newsom relies only on her harp to accompany her vocals, ultimately producing the album's best track. Her simple, dreamlike playing contributes to her exploration of the ever-delicate human psyche. Lyrically, Newsom describes a downward spiral into madness, likening the mental state's fragility to that of a sawdust and diamond-stuffed dove.

"Only Skin," the album's longest track at 16 minutes, is the artist's analysis of death. "Dog nor vulture nor cat shall toy with you/ And though you die, bird, you will have a fine view," Newsom sings. Through lilting vocals, oriental harping and animal personification, Newsom demonstrates her positive view of death. After all, a body is "only skin," she claims.

Newsom wraps up Ys with the dreamlike track "Cosmia," creating a romantic air for this song of love lost. Through her gravelly, sometimes chirping vocals, Newsom best relays the concept of loneliness on this track. With an almost painful honesty, she sings, "And all those lonely nights down by the river/ Brought me bread and water," describing how her loneliness has made her a prisoner of her own heart.

With its unique vocals, lengthy tracks and overt obsession with the medieval, an album like Joanna Newsom's Ys is undoubtedly difficult to digest for those unfamiliar with this eccentric folk singer. Frequent listening, however, unveils the true grandiose and splendor of Newsom's Muppety vocals, poetic lyrics and instrumental mastery. Newsom is, without a doubt, a true musical marvel, or — as she would prefer to be called — a true minstrel.

Newsom will bring her brand of harp-driven folk to Union South's Club 770 on Saturday, Dec. 9.