Music: Haley Bonar -- Darling one

True story: Haley Bonar literally did not know the meaning of the term "commercial aspirations" when it came up during an interview two weeks ago. She thought it had something to do with having a song featured in a TV ad.

"I don't know," she said with hesitation. "With my luck, I'd get some company like Wal-Mart or McDonald's calling me, and I'd be like, 'Morals! Morals! Morals!'"

In either case, the point was made. Bonar, 25, views the music business the way people in her hometown of Rapid City, S.D., view Mount Rushmore: It's nice being close to it, but too many gaudy roadside attractions and tacky trappings have been built up around it.

Curiously, Bonar went and titled her fourth album "Big Star." It's her most accessible and shimmering record to date, and there's a fleeting and well-deserved chance it could indeed make her world a little more starry. She insists that's not why she picked the name, though (it's the title of one of the songs).

We can just as easily insist on interpreting it that way. Bonar now shares a manager with Chicago indie star Andrew Bird. She had the best drummer in town play on the record, Dave King. She had it mixed by one of the world's most in-demand studio producer/engineers, Tchad Blake (his better-known clients: Pearl Jam, Tom Waits, Elvis Costello and King's Bad Plus).

Best of all, she wrote the most fetching, poetic and sophisticated songs of her career for "Big Star," and her lamb-to-lion vocal talents rose to the occasion.

In all, it suggests the kind of ambition that Bonar eschews in conversation. "I surrendered a lot with this record," she admitted. "Some people who've heard it say it needs bigger arrangements and more production, but for me, this is a lot of production."

Talking in the rustic kitchen of a historic townhouse in St. Paul's Cathedral Hill neighborhood, Bonar seemed content leading a lifestyle that's more bohemian than starlike. The place, rented with her younger sister Torey and two other friends, looks like a tenement some beat poets might've shared in San Francisco in the '50s, with antique wall art, half-finished canvases by Torey (she painted the back cover of "Big Star") and a few bikes and bookcases scattered around.

Bonar pays her bills with a part-time job behind the counter of a nearby coffee shop. She hates the work, but likes the shop, which accommodates her music schedule and is a good place to meet people -- like her new bass player, local music vet Jim Boquist (ex-Son Volt).

"I work to feed my habit to play music," she said, sounding proud she hasn't accomplished more, if that makes any sense.

"I'm 25. I had a year of school. I rent. But I also have a few records under my belt, and I get to tour. I'm fine with all that. I feel like it's a nice balance, and it's what I'm supposed to do."

Her manager, Andrea Troolin, quipped: "I can't wait for her to not have to work at a coffee shop." Troolin praised the "pure intent" that Bonar showed before their association. "She's already turned down major record deals and taken her own path. Of course, we'll all be happy if lots of albums get sold or her music ends up some cool soundtrack, but it will be the icing on the cake."

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As achievements go, Bonar's records definitely stand up.

She made her first album while still a teenager in Rapid City, a feat in and of itself. Her second, 2003's "The Size of Planets," was recorded and released with help from Low frontman Alan Sparhawk -- quickly making her the darling of the incubatory Duluth scene, where she moved at age 18 to (briefly) attend UMD.

"I wouldn't trade it for the world," she said of her Duluth stint. "I took music seriously before I moved there, but it was just so easy to move into that scene and start playing around. People were very accepting."

Bonar's third album, 2006's "Lure the Fox," followed a tumultuous period when she nearly landed a sizable record deal with the White Stripes' old label V2 (now defunct). She also broke up with a boyfriend (there's been at least one other breakup since) and moved back to Rapid City for a few months.

"Everybody has to do that at least once when they're young, go back home to live for free for a while," she said, laughing at the memory. "It was literally a case of: I needed to get out of my house by a certain time, and I didn't have any money. I wasn't running away from everything, but that's what it kind of got turned into."

"Lure the Fox" sounded like a retreat. Sonically, it was raw and hollowed out. Lyrically, many of the songs had a wound-licking quality. The record was picked up by Minneapolis' young firecracker of an indie label, Afternoon Records, which is also issuing "Big Star." It earned Bonar ample attention from Twin Cities critics and the Current (89.3 FM).

Bonar's return to Rapid City hardly turned out to be a peaceful respite. Her parents split up (Dad is a physical therapist, and Mom was a stay-at-home mother) and her high-school boyfriend died. The upside was, she grew reattached to a lot of people there, including her three younger sisters, whom she credits for sparking her imagination.

"We hardly ever watched TV; we were always playing," she said, adding that an oft-told story about her picking up the guitar at age 14 for lack of better entertainment "is a cliche, but really mostly true."

A lot of "Big Star" is about all these up-and-down experiences in Rapid City.

"I think going back there opened up some kind of vessel," she said. "It made me think about my relationships and how I became a musician -- and why I wanted to get the [expletive] away from Rapid City."

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Since relocating to the Twin Cities and releasing "Lure the Fox," Bonar has enjoyed a couple of nice feather-in-the-cap bits of notoriety.

She sang on last year's well-received Andrew Bird album, "Armchair Apocrypha." She also landed her song "Quiet Breathing" on the soundtrack to the Spirit Award-winning, Minnesota-made movie "Sweet Land," whose writer/director, Ali Selim, recruited Bonar after recognizing her at the post office. Selim might direct a music video for her.

"It was such a beautiful movie," Bonar said, making fun of her own not-so-sweet reaction at the premiere. "My aunt and I went, and I was waiting and waiting for the credits to roll to hear my song. But then it got to the end, and everybody stood up and clapped. You couldn't hear it. I was like, 'Shut up! That's me!'"

According to the people who work with Bonar, she has no trouble being heard in the studio or rehearsals.

"She's still a young woman, but she's been doing this a while and it shows when she's driving the ship," said guitarist Bill Mike, another local vet who played on "Big Star." He will be in her band for Thursday's CD-release party at the Varsity Theater, along with Boquist, drummer Luke Anderson and backup signer Linnea Mohn. (For logistical reasons, she's using a different lineup on tour this month with Hayden, hitting many of the big U.S. cities, including New York, Los Angeles and Chicago, where Hayden recently opened for Feist.)

Bonar's view on how she operates with her band is simple: "I work with musicians who know how to do their own thing, so it's easy to let them be creative," she said.

The collaborative process clearly was a big part of "Big Star's" success. The disc's poppiest songs, including the standoffish love song "Arms of Harm" and the neo-twangy opener "Green Eyed Boy," sparkle and crinkle with edgy musical bits that are often as mesmerizing as Bonar's voice, including King's loose-cannon but well-aimed drum parts and the sunbeam-warm organ and slide-guitar parts.

Bonar and her team even pulled off a bona-fide country song, "Highway 16," which she wrote back in high school. "I always thought it was a bit too kitschy, like [in a chirpy voice], 'I'm in high school and I listen to Johnny Cash a lot,'" she said. "But after a while, I said, 'Screw it. I like it.'"

The whispery gem "Better Half" is a less celebratory look back on those freewheeling days of youth. In it, Bonar's younger self becomes the "half" she misses. "I guess when you age, you start realizing things," she sings. "You start doing your part and wearing left-handed rings."

The pivotal song is the title track, which indeed seems to be about a big rock star riding airplanes and selling singles -- but written from the perspective of someone stuck at home: "I can't make you happy/ I can't make you money/ I can only fold your laundry."

Throughout the record, Bonar steps out as a vocalist and, frankly, a notch above other current indie-rock starlets (Feist, Jenny Lewis, St. Vincent, you name it).

Said Bill Mike, "I think this record is her breakthrough vocal performance. I've heard Haley just goofing around doing imitations of Dolly Parton or Aretha Franklin or even Mariah Carey, and she can sing like them all beautifully. These songs finally show her singing to her full potential, I think."

It's her best record to date, but can it be her commercial breakthrough? Not TV commercials, mind you.

Finally addressing her aspirations, Bonar simply said, "You can either kick and scream and strive for something that's not realistic, or you can surrender yourself and just be happy with whatever you get. I'm 100 percent happy with this record."

Spoken like a true star.

Chris Riemenschneider • 612-673-4658