Julie Delpy’s musical debut isn’t as nuanced as her impressive film work. She willingly tries on the various adult alternative arrangements collaborator Philippe Eidel comes up with, but it never seems like she’s singing so much as emoting her way through the set. She’s girlish over the whimsical folk of openers “My Dear Friend” and “Mr. Unhappy,” gamely trying to rhyme “made a proposition” with “be on medication.” But just a few seconds later it’s time for the processed backdrop and arty downtown drumbeats of the clunky “Lame Love.” “I used a rubber/That I remember/I guess I’m fine/Apart from 69″ — oi! And it only gets worse when her fleeting beau leaves to pick up his girlfriend. This sort of thing can work, provided the singer inhabits the track with the right amount of poise, but in Delpy’s case, the prurience seems like a misguided attempt to infuse credibility into the project. It’s too bad because she’s much stronger in the album’s mid-section, where the drifting cabaret pop of “Waltz for a Night” or “Something a Bit Vague” nicely suits her limited but pleasant range and quite beguiling accent. In these moments, she sort of sounds like a French Edie Brickell. Though “And Together” returns to her curious, hedonistic take on Patti Smith, the album does end prettily with the missing-you ballad “Ocean Apart.” – Johnny Loftus