Christina Courtin is a Juilliard-trained violinist yet there are few bursts of dexterity that would betray this classical background on her elegant debut release. That’s not a put-down. She just seems to want to be taken more as a singer/songwriter than an instrumental dynamo, and at this she certainly succeeds on the strength of her charming, demure voice and slightly eccentric delivery. Her music is by turns soothing (“Green Jay,” “Hedonistic Paradise,” “Rainy”), playful (“Foreign Country,” “One Man Down”), and melancholic (“Bundah,” “Mulberries”), with a wide range of instruments employed (including strings, slide guitar, and toy pianos) and clever arrangements. The one exception comes near the end of “Laconia,” where her soft demeanor is interrupted by a frenzied burst of unexpected angst showing a different side of Courtin. Backed by a cast of A-list players for hire including Benmont Tench, Jim Keltner, Greg Leisz, and Greg Cohen, the music is impeccably polished and a good fit for Courtin’s whimsical chamber pop. This tender debut will likely appeal to fans of other sweet songstresses like Norah Jones, Madeleine Peyroux, Feist, and Zee Avi.