It's easy to understand why the confessional singer/songwriter is going the way of the dinosaur when the only high profile examples are overbearing crybabies like Dashboard Confessional. DC may have somehow managed to parlay solipsistic middle school poems about unrequited boners into sold out arena tours, but a discovery like Thomas, whose equally introspective but far more articulate tunes are forced to settle for a critic centered cultic following, serves notice that as long as people have rudimentary acoustic guitar skills and a bit of insight into the human condition there's never going to be a shortage of worthwhile singer/songwriters plying their trade.

"There's always so much going on in our lives I don't think we ever finish having things to talk about or think about," claims the Seattle-based Thomas, 26, via telephone while on tour, "I think that goes for all of us—not songwriters in particular. My life is a constant learning process and I can't imagine I'll run out of things to say. I may get bored sometimes though and think, 'Crap, why am I always talking about the same things?' I sit around with my friends and it's like, 'Shit we're talking about our fear of marriage again.' I look forward to the day that everything's cool, but also realize it’s not ever going to be and there's always that stuff to work through. I'm always coming back to that creatively, it's always about love, it's always about figuring yourself out, it's always about faith. I think it's a continual process, and I hope as a writer it continues to pour out of me."

It's pouring in buckets throughout Thomas' sophomore effort, 2003's Only With Laughter Can You Win (Sub Pop) in which she artfully dodges trite Lilith Fair treacle to produce a set of textured melancholic folk-rock whose pensive emotional terrain manages to be both soothing and unsettling for the listener. Crafted with the aid of longtime musical collaborator Eric Fisher (guitarist for Damien Jurado's Gathered in Song), Thomas' sad songbird alto and skeletal acoustic guitar sketches are augmented by lush vocal harmonies and fleshed out with minor chord piano melodies, scattered bits of cello and glockenspiel and the occasional indie-folk-star cameos (from the likes of Iron & Wine's Sam Beam) to great effect throughout Only With …

The hymn-like a cappella opening of "Let Myself Fall" provides a nice contrast to the gentle country-rock of "I Play Music" which in turn offsets the experimental ambiance of closing tape collage/piano ballad "Dialogue." The overall result is a broader reaching and richer sounding album then Thomas' solid debut, 2001's more traditionally bent, When We Were Small. Only With Laughter Can You Win asserts Thomas as her own woman, far more than the Phoni Mitchell clone some were quick to write her off as on her debut.

The broader reach extends not only to the sounds contained on album No. 2, Thomas' lyrical eye is similarly widened, moving beyond the childhood ruminations that fueled much of When We Were Small and attempting to grapple with issues ranging from staving off self-destructive impulses ("One More Day") to self-help affirmations ("Gradually") and repeatedly examining the newest relationship in her life—which happens to be with God ("All My Life").

Admittedly, an album revolving around the quest for self-realization and spiritual stability sounds completely overbearing (like most everyone else I know, I have a hard time even saying the words "self-realization" without smirking). Thankfully, Thomas approaches the touchy subject matter with supreme tact. She's keenly aware that whenever artists attempt to tackle the big issues of life in song (love, God, death) you had better raise more questions than answers or risk appearing like a preachy blow-hard.

"There are definitely songs that I write and put God's name in there and I'm like, 'yeah that's the thing I'm talking about—that's the thing that gets me through,'" explains Thomas, regarding the more overtly ethereal bent of her latest recording. "I tried to [write about my spirituality] in a way that remained open for people though. So many people have a really limited view of Christianity. As soon as they hear you sing about God all the sudden they picture you in a polo shirt and holding a Bible and it's like, 'no man not everybody is that way, and those people aren't always right either—those people are screwed up too.' Someone wrote something where I was compared to [conservative Christian pop star] Amy Grant and I was like, 'Oh my god, I think I'm going to kill myself.' I get compared to Amy Grant just because I say the word God and that's just absurd. That's part of making music, though, getting used to being criticized and disliked and sometimes unfairly."

Strongly favoring the role of spiritual seeker over didactic proselytizer, Thomas continues to seek connection (spiritual and corporeal) through her craft. A bubbly flat-out hilarious personality (she was a regular on the Seattle stand-up comedy circuit before pursuing music full-time), Thomas saves her serious and strongest sentiments for her songs. "Music is a part of me and it's a big part of me," admits Thomas, "but obviously I do other things. Like with my stand-up comedy, I would stick to making people laugh. My music just comes from a very serious place. I think people are dying to go deeper. I think people are dying of loneliness. And so what do we do to get through that? We go to the bar and we drink and laugh and talk about bullshit and talk about nothing. So it's very important to me with my music that I actually talk about things that matter. Because they are things I think about. Why is it that I'm able to laugh at life? Why is it that I'm able to make it through with my chin up? Because I was able to look at in a very serious way and go like, 'wow I'm really freaked out about a lot of things in my life.' I try to look at that stuff and really face it because I don't want to die feeling like I never really fucking knew myself. And if you can be bold enough to bring that stuff up then maybe other people will be like 'thank you, I've been freaking out too' and you can affect someone else. I want to affect people on a very real level and hopefully reach them at an emotional place."

Rosie Thomas plays on Wed., April 21, at the Turf Club. With Denison Witmer and the Ashtray Hearts. 8 p.m. $6. 21+. The Corner of University and Snelling Avenues, St. Paul. 651-647-0486.

Download an mp3 of Rosie Thomas’ song I Play Music.

You can find out more about Rosie Thomas on her official website.