“Unpredictability” seems to be the quality least appreciated when it comes to pop stars, even though it’s only a slight twist to change “unpredictable” into “versatile.” In general, though, music fans like versatility because unpredictability makes them nervous. Roisin Murphy is unpredictable. She emerged in 1995 as one half of Moloko, a group initially part of that generation’s class of moody trip-hoppers, but over the course of their career eventually moved into unabashed dancefloor stompers like the hit “Sing It Back.” When Murphy went solo, most expected her to continue in the vein of Moloko’s biggest hits. Instead, she took a twisty path. By the time she landed in the “logical” position of dancefloor commander with 2007’s Overpowered, the unpredictability came back to haunt her as the record was unfairly overlooked. Unfaltering, though, she went on to release a grab bag of standalone singles, collaborate with a wide variety of acts, and release an EP inspired by Italian pop.

Her latest, Hairless Toys (PIAS Recordings) isn’t an attempt to right the ship or even to present a streamlined version of what Murphy does. It’s a slow-burning dance record with diversions into country & western lullabies. It’s a moody twilight record with jazzy folk overtones. It’s a house record with a trip-hop heart. Ultimately, though, it’s undeniably Murphy. With all the different styles going on—many at the same time—the record should be a mess, but Murphy manages to weave everything into a cohesive sonic fabric. A more nervous performer would perhaps be tempted to smooth the edges, but she seems more than happy to show where the rivets and joints connect. And if it takes a couple of minutes for a track to build into its final form, that’s quite alright. There’s a lot that straight up shouldn’t work—the queasy bassline of “Explotation,” the high lonesome “Exile,” the ’80s R&B breakdown of “Evil Eyes”—yet everything is presented in such a way that it just makes sense. In fact, it seems like the most logical result.

In addition to the sonic risks taken, Murphy is just as bold with her lyrics. Whether she’s commiserating with outcasts trying to build a new home (“Gone Fishing”) or trying to connect with a love on the title track, everything sounds honest and true. Combined with her vocal performance, which reveals at turns strength, vulnerability, and the occasional flash of humor, she ably pulls the listener into each song’s world. Aiding such gravity is the fact that every song is tightly interwoven so as to demand closer attention. It’s tempting to say that Hairless Toys is Murphy’s best, but really it’s the singer delivering, as always, at a predictably high level.