Jones is, however, cool with e-mail. She likes its unobtrusive, literary quality. "I can get my thoughts across," she says, "with relative ease." And since she's also fond of communication and experimentation, she agrees to have a conversation with me via e-mail -- with one caveat: no clichéd questions.

Jones has never run with the pack. In 1979, when her eponymous debut disc hit record stores with its jazzy, stripped-down folk, the airwaves were busy getting down to quite a different sound: "YMCA," "Ring My Bell," "We Are Family." Still, she scored a No. 4 hit with "Chuck E.'s in Love," her most well-known song to date. Critics hailed her as a pop heroine, and she snagged the best new artist Grammy that year, beating out the Knack, the Blues Brothers, Dire Straits and comedian Robin Williams.

Commercial expectations were high for the beret-wearing vocalist. Then, two years later, she turned out "Pirates," a disc filled with plenty of radio-unfriendly tunes, cementing her reputation as an idiosyncratic artist. She has since turned out eight more eclectic albums filled with vocal jewels that radio-station program managers don't know what to do with.

Despite -- or because of -- her reluctance to fit into any particular mold, Jones' fans cover a wide spectrum. For example, she's the only artist to make it onto the soundtrack albums of both "Party of Five" and "thirtysomething." And now the 45-year-old (she turns 46 on Nov. 8) is getting ready for her U.S. tour that kicks off in New York on Dec. 10. It's in support of her September release, "It's Like This," an album of curious covers, ranging from the Gershwin standard "Someone to Watch Over Me" to Steve Winwood's "Low Spark of High Heeled Boys."

The other day, while hanging out at her Tacoma, Wash., home, Jones took a few minutes to correspond with me, sending along her thoughts on Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, the silliness of poetry readings, potential sex with Jack Nicholson, Major League Baseball's mistakes, hope, transcendence and whether she makes a good piece of meat. Jones even had a few choice comments about Barry Manilow and Madonna.

So, Britney or Christina?

Popular music has always had its really horrendous stuff. I'll tell you, I would rather it was Britney than Barry Manilow. "Mandy," stuff like that, used to be all over the radio. It might be funny now, but when it's taken seriously and selling a lot of records ... So, be glad you have Britney and Christina. It could be a lot worse.

I must beg you, though, not to ask me to choose. They are both so fine, what is to be gained by putting them down? They are better singers than Madonna. They are better dancers as well. So before you rag on them, you better bring down their elders.

Dance music has always been boring to me, and what they call dance music is for people who can't dance. I like the Motown stuff or the sexy guitar-based bands, like "Mississippi Queen" or "Off the Wall," those kinds of beats. This crap called dance music -- that's just "go to a bar and get laid because people here will do anything to get out of this bar and away from this music" music. Isn't it?

What was your worst job?

My worst job was working in the laundry of a nursing home. I worked for a cruel and ugly woman who made me take the sheets out of the dryer while it was still actually turning, so I would burn my hands. I'd say, "But it is too hot, it burns," and she would say, "You have to take it out while it's hot. That's the way I want it." I tell you, I think I know how Cinderella felt. It was a great day when I quit there, because my nice friend I met there, Bernadette, she quit too, just because that woman had been so mean to me.

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