Annie Lewandowski has been writing and performing under the cloak of Powerdove since late 2007. Undertaking the project originally as a solo venture, the nu-folk act has now ballooned to three members for the recording of her third record, Do You Burn?, incorporating John Dieterich of Deerhoof and Thomas Bonvalet of L'Ocelle Mare. Hailing from Minnesota, the North Star State, Lewandowski has frequently included themes of nature and the outdoors, no doubt spurred on by the grand breadth of natural beauty (and sheer number of lakes) on offer in her home state. Nowadays, she resides in the UK, using Lake Itchen in Hampshire as a muse in lieu of her normal inspirations Stateside.

She describes her music as "eclectic-folk" which is a term that should be applied very loosely. The sounds on Do You Burn? are somewhat folksy: it's mostly acoustic, there are dainty flecks of guitar and the pure voice of Lewandowski trundles through the sounds. It bears similarities to her previous outfit, The Curtains. However, it is also jarring, dissonant experimental music, filled with irksome tunings, strange passages of near silence and flippant time signatures. Elements float in and out aimlessly with nerve-wracking insolence and laissez faire belligerence - some songs are difficult to listen to through the brambly twangs of tuneless violin (is that violin?) and broken accordions. But despite the superficial awkwardness of the noises, it's actually a very endearing, and at times traumatic, record.

Opener 'Fellow' squirms through a thorny undergrowth, plagued by painful screeching and what sounds like the recording of someone tuning their guitar up and down. It's brimming with caustic creaky-door squeals that seem to purposefully contrast the droning guitar strums - 'Fellow' is less a song, more a soundtrack to some of Artaud's theatre of cruelty. 'Under Awnings' continues this theme, adding a plethora of arrhythmic handclaps and snappy piano glissandi. It's again hard to listen to, but there are bursts of melodic voice. The title track on Do You Burn? is where the LP really takes hold – it's a vicious spat between anxious strings and Lewandowski's mournful madrigal. The track is solitary, with her pristine vocals expressing loneliness and redemption. It's intense.

But it's not all doom'n'gloom/eldritch art-folk. Twinges of Björk are present in the vocals as 'Love Walked In' swans into earshot. It's a sweet, delicate ode to love. Crunchy cracks of percussion bamf around, but for the most part it's quite a standard folk ditty, preaching summertime frivolities. 'Wandering Jew' is a slice of self-deprecation, with acerbic rhetoric aimed squarely at herself for having the audacity to sully nature with her songs: "I have forsaken the tune like a wandering Jew/ I have failed, selfish and foolish." Perhaps not the most accessible song she's ever written, but despite her "cardinal sin" she's actually created something that sounds weirdly adorable. It's the kind of eccentric, shuffly indie-folk Diablo Cody is sure to nab for her next film.

Lewandowski is a natural improviser, and that comes across on the record. A lot of the melodies and harmonies are half-formed, needing a mite more work to turn them into folk proper, but allowed to fester in avante-garde instrumentation and dischordant randomness. It makes for an album that's not the most easy-listening. That said, the instances of rounded pleasure that aren't wallowing in noises that sound like someone has given a mandolin to a toddler, sound great - there are plenty of moments here that are lovable, and indeed plenty that are harrowing. Do You Burn? isn't one for the faint of heart/lovers of big choons, but there'll be something lurking between the arthouse Mickey-Mousing and pastoral folk to ensnare you.