Don’t be fooled. She may croon with the voice of a little girl. She may even be willing to share her very best grilled cheese sandwich on a cool autumn day.

But words coming forth from that voice are anything but juvenile. And Lis Harvey’s greatest gifts feed the soul far better than the body. Her unbeatable folk sound, pairing a lively picked guitar with lyrics that nimbly pick the mind, put her on the map. She took that recognition to a whole new, very literal level by setting the Guinness World Record with her Fifty State Tour in 2002. Lis charted her way around every single state in the union by playing fifty-two shows in sixty days. It is an exhausting feat to even fathom, much less execute. The inspiration for such an ambitious venture was none other than Oregon Trail. Well, the influences of Oregon Trail mixed with the fondness of playing on the road.

Harvey explained, “I didn’t exactly get a covered wagon and I think I was under a little more pressure than the average day-to-day pioneer, but the Fifty State Tour was as close as I could get to the Donner Party without, you know, dying or having to eat another person … I love that part of my job is traveling — and I love traveling in the U.S.”

For Harvey, who currently calls Madison home, traveling not only allows her to spread her delightful sounds, but it also gets her back to her favorite place to play: Club Passim in Cambridge, MA.

“I was born in Boston,” she said. “Those audiences are comfortable for me. Everyone’s an old friend, even if we’ve never met. And Club Passim is just perfect, in terms of the way the stage is set up and the sound gets back to you when you’re playing. Those are the two things that make a show: audience and sound.”

Harvey experienced both when she debuted her newest album Porcupine in Madison early in October. She said of the show, “The King Club was packed, everyone listened and didn’t smoke until after the show and it was pretty blissful.”

When asked to tell her story as an artist, blissful was far from her response. Initially, she responded with a characteristic quirkiness that is so endearing of Harvey, asking, “Can I pick one? Like Little Red Riding Hood? I really identify with her, because she was fearless in setting off by herself into the woods and also because I have red hair. And I, too, would go to great lengths for a big basket of food.”

Not only would she go to great lengths for food, but the journey toward finding her art was no path straight and narrow.

“I started playing piano when I was five,” she said. “Hated it by 11. Begged for a guitar and got one at 12, took lessons from 14 to 16. Wrote bad poetry and even worse songs in high school, a la every American teenager. Went to art college, got kicked out. Moved to Los Angeles, delivered pizzas. Rediscovered the guitar. Started writing songs I liked — and other people liked them too. Started playing for money. Went back to college (a different one), made a couple records. Continued to make money playing music through school, but got real tired of homework interfering with my band, real fast. Graduated early. Burst out touring, full time.”

Only time will tell where that storyline will wind next.

For now, that plot is centered around the promotion of her album, an amalgamation of sounds ranging from experimentation with jazz to a full band and ideas varying from location to infidelity. Just as she was sparked by the Oregon Trail to embark on a head-spinning tour, Harvey said, “I’m inspired by everything. I write about anything. Anyone’s story can become your own — that’s as true in life as it is in art.”

How lovely to be so moved by the market as to make it the snappy little number opening an album.

“‘Four-Thirty’ is a little song I wrote for Woodman’s,” Harvey said. “You know, the grocery store. I am in love with that place. You can find me at Woodman’s West, pretty much every Sunday.”

Here is reiterated the notion not to be fooled. Harvey approaches the light-hearted subject as successfully as she does themes of the ominous sort.

“I hope people get ‘Josephine.’ It’s a fictional story of sacrifice and hard luck in a time of severe oppression for women. It makes me very, very sad to play it — but it’s also my favorite song on the record. I think we have gotten complacent about equity in this country, thanks to a false sense of having fully accomplished ‘women’s lib.’ Women are not equal in the eyes of many.” Lis elaborated, “There’s a lot of work to be done to achieve equal pay for equal work and to fully instate a sensible, hands-off approach to a woman’s control of her body.

“In ‘Josephine,’ I used an extreme landscape of misogyny and a life-or-death decision to try to bring issues of inequity into people’s minds again. The oppression of women may be an old problem, but it ain’t over until the fat lady sings and gets paid the same as the fat man.” She added, “And doesn’t get crap for not fitting into Ashlee Simpson’s wardrobe.”

Social challenges come from Harvey not only in regards to gender equality, but also in reference to her industry. She doesn’t need Simpson’s wardrobe any more than she needs the high-rises and busy streets many flock to in hopes of signing on a big record label.

With “Far Away,” Harvey reflects on such a notion. How many songs have given appreciation to Madison? Wisconsin? The non-Chicago midwest?

Singing, “I live far away/From New York and LA,” in the second number on the album, Lis does just that.

“Anyone who says Madison doesn’t have a good music scene has honestly never lived in more than one city. There is a supportive, cheerful vibe among musicians, venues and I tell you it is worth its weight in gold. I wouldn’t trade this place for a “better scene” any day, because while there may be more music going on in New York and LA, there isn’t half the respect and camaraderie between musicians. Madison is a place where musical community thrives. I am so lucky to live here. Go, Madison, go!” Indeed, it should be noted that the city just as cheerfully responds, “Go, Lis, go!”

Her sprite-like spirit overflowing, Harvey’s music is a contagion that can be resisted about as well as the Donner party could defend against cholera. Except hers is one fever that will not likely be fought. Submit to the catchy lines that can cure as easily as they cut. Surrender to addictive sounds that encourage motion of the mind as much as the head. Lis Harvey’s covered wagon leaves a cloud of dust in its wake and even those tiniest bits of her ingenuity are to be marveled.