February is typically the month when record labels like to release their lesbian artists, look for the Indigo Girls, in a week and k.d. Lang before the 28th. If you're of the Sappho persuasion, please do not click away in anger - I'm just kidding. Though I am not a female and therefore unqualified to be a lesbian - I'm a huge fan. I too have no desire to engage in sex with men, they're hairy, they have hygiene issues - and if, for whatever reason, I were magically transformed into a woman, I'm quite certain that this would not change my iron-clad policy of not wanting to have sex with men. As far as sex is concerned, I'm all about the ladies. As evidence of this fact, I might recommend to those lesbians under the age of say, 35 - a movie that is unquestionably the sexiest (non-porno) movie ever made. It's called Desert Hearts and for those of you who think of yourself as being lesbian, yet have not seen this film - I say your training is far from complete.

In terms of heroines, for a lesbian there are few who rank above Ms. Melissa. Ellen is funnier, Sandra Bernhardt is funnier and I dare say a bit more attractive, but neither can get a gal's mons venerous in such an uproar as Melissa. Even her last name sounds like an erogenous zone. "Located near the entrance to the Uterus is the Etheridge." I've clearly taken this too far, and I apologize - but truthfully I'm quite happy for Melissa for the title of this record is exactly what she perceives herself to be. Unlike her last album where she crawled into a dark space and cried about a love gone sour - Lucky finds her celebrating the onset of a new love and from a musical standpoint this is a welcome development.

Elvis Costello recently recorded the self-same circumstances, but he did it on one album instead of stretching the happy and the sad portions of love into separate releases. I should stop here to point out that this album is a true masterpiece and should be in the collection of human beings of all sexual proclivities. The celebration of a new romance notwithstanding, Melissa seems to have finally come to terms with herself. She still displays that unfortunate tendency to barrel into a chorus with an overwrought fervor that is not always enjoyable, but for whatever reason it all of the sudden doesn't bother me so much. Perhaps, I've come to terms with it myself.

The first single from this happied-up affair "Breathe" is actually a cover song from a band called Greenwheel, which Lucky producer John Shanks (whose name is also a lesser known male sexual organ) brought to the table. I'll have to admit that it's got a killer chorus hook - similar to the singles that Liz Phair's poppy self-titler gave us. The nicest thing about Lucky, is that much like Liz Phair's album, Melissa really seems to be having alot of fun with her sexuality and is no longer taking it all so seriously. She just lays it out there and dares the Rush Limbaugh's of this world to flinch. The album is unabashedly lush and romantic and sexual and hot as the very freakin' furnace - and quite honestly it's refreshing to listen to the heavy breathing of someone who's just sick with that crazy little thing called love.