Grab your nearest Webster’s Dictionary (I know you have one) and flip straight to the Qs. There’s a very particular word you’ll be looking for—one where the definition is a bit off. The word that I assume you’re now frantically searching for is “quirky.” Yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard it before; you may even know the definition. But what you’ve been told and think you know is wrong, because the definition of quirky is none other than Danielle Ate the Sandwich.

Her stage name sounds like a cute claymation YouTube video of some sorts, but once you hear her voice swept up in the carefree, aura-like vibes from her ukulele you’ll know she’s made of much more than clay. You’ll hear the personality in the blunt and upfront words. While still subtle enough to be relatable, her lyrics voice her view on the world, a real and down-to-Earth view indeed. She stays pretty true to the roots formed by the classic artists in her genre, and this isn’t an easy thing to accomplish, even if it may seem so. It takes a lot to sit down and cut records that are as personal as Danielle’s, especially in such a craftily unique—yet familiar—way.

The niche that Danielle seeks to fill with her curious and never quite upbeat tunes isn’t exactly barren. You see, lately the desire to be unique has gotten an even larger new-wave boost: everyone wants to be their own snowflake. It’s easy to get lost in all of the recent singer/songwriters boasting an acoustic guitar or other stringed instrument otherwise armed with a usually lackluster voice.

In all honesty, the whole genre has been morphed over the years. Classic singer/songwriter artists like Carole King or Neil Young or Simon and Garfunkel had a much more honest sort of vibe. Rarely did their lyrics sound forced—the whole point of the genre was to inspire deep and real sessions sang straight from the heart. The now-common “Zooey Deschanel way,” where songs must be quirky and cute is a trend that many female contemporary singer/songwriters sink into and it is artists like these that make this entire genre easily forgotten. The ocean of mediocrity taking music as a whole (and especially the indie scene) by storm really can overwhelm other smalltime stars in the process. Danielle’s quirky little ship however, refuses to be sunk. No, her awkward sails and lopsided masts manage to stay barely above the crashing waves, and luckily so.

If you can get past the vaguely generic sounding ukulele plucks, Danielle truly has some words worth listening to. Although her sometimes weak sounding voice gets overshadowed by the aforementioned plucks, the feel-good vibe those plucks inspire can be worth a break from the almost cute sounding lyrics. She has an interesting tongue-in-cheek way of putting things—like her lyrics are cute and she knows it. Some of her little sayings are Juno-status cute in the sense that it almost feels forced and a little bit unnatural (would anyone actually say half the things Juno does?). Stuffing this to the back of your mind, however, it’s easy to get absorbed by the lovely feelings that emerge once you kick back with an album of hers.

I particularly enjoyed her album Things People Do. While quite empty in the fast-paced party songs we’re all so used to, only her voice stands as a melancholic statue amidst an otherwise heartfelt and good-intentioned mist she forms with her ukulele. Her lyrics are certainly upbeat, for the most part, and I’d be hard pressed to find a reason to dislike the carefully yet playfully little plucks in the background. There’s just something that seems off about the album though, like she’s faking a smile or something. The details like this entail a much deeper story to lyrics like her saying that she feels “hot as a hash brown,” even though put in a fun and not-so-serious kind of way. Her songs leave you asking, “Why?” to nearly everything she says, though that’s not really always bad thing.

Danielle Ate the Sandwich is more than dust among a desert of these new singer/songwriters. While it may be hard to pick her from a crowd of other aspiring, similar artists, her talent is far from being under question. To put it simply: she manages to keep her head above water and does so while wearing a bright and polka-dotted lifejacket. Her sweetly organized tunes can create an enjoyable and carefree listen, and it’s really a shame that artists like Danielle can easily get swept away by much less talented artists. Though suffering from the same flaws that many in her genre do, her album’s high points glimmer with hope. I hope to see more of Danielle—and any musicians as promising as her—because the world needs more talent in this ill and atrophied industry.