Is Kelly Willis this year's Lucinda Williams? Both seem to have reaped the benefits of the "absence makes the heart grow fonder" proverb.

Willis' new Rykodisc album, "What I Deserve" (like Williams' 1998 "Car Wheels On A Gravel Road") arrives after a seemingly endless array of frustrating delays that seem to have left most critics' in a worshipful state.

The adulation that has already greeted Willis' latest, in every major musical and general entertainment publication, belies the fact that her only three previous albums were not only commercial failures, but didn't get much attention from most of these publications.

"People seem to be excited that I have a record out," Willis saysfrom her Austin home. "I didn't know if anyone would even care."

There are differences between the two women, of course. For one, Williams is known primarily as a songwriter. Willis has developed her following mainly via her voice, though she has always written songs too. She's responsible in whole or in part for six songs on the new album, but Willis emphasizes that "I'm not a prolific writer. I write in spurts."

Another difference is in the sources of their respective albums' delays. Williams' was due mainly to her own now legendary ultra-perfectionism.

In Willis' case, her album was put off by more typical record industry machinations. After three albums on MCA failed to significantly dent the targeted commercial country market. Willis was dropped. She found herself on A&M, a label which (like her current label Rykodisc) would by necessity have had to go after a different audience. An EP, "Fading Fast," was released, sort of (in Texas only pretty much anyway), but the promised album never appeared.

"I was there (A&M) for about a year and a half, and I was just getting to make a record when they did a housecleaning. My A&R person was one of those let go." With no one left at the label to support her, Willis soon made her own exit.

"It didn't devastate me like the MCA deal. It ate up a lot of time, and then I had to figure out how to make a record. I couldn't find a label that would take a chance to let me do what I wanted to do and not be a co-creator. A guy from England named Geoff Travis, who used to run Rough Trade, put up the money."

The finished product impressed Rykodisc enough that they took it on as is.

As for the devastation of leaving MCA, Willis says "It's not that they dumped me because I knew they were going to at the end of the record. But they did it right after the record came out. And (label head) Tony Brown didn't call to tell me about it. I considered him a close friend. They were like my family. I was so young when I started working there. I liken it to a divorce."

Willis adds that she and Brown eventually mended their fences.

Willis, 30, has commented frequently about how Nashville is very good at pressuring artists to do things the Nashville way, while convincing them it was their own decision. After allowing an artist to do it their own way on a first album, when it fails, they've got you.

"It's amazing how intense that pressure feels. You know it's not exactly what you want, but they're going to drop me. Maybe I can work with this, and make it okay." (It worked for Sara Evans).

After a well-received show at Austin's South By Southwest music festival in 1989, Willis signed with MCA. She released "Well-Traveled Love" in 1990.

When Willis' second album, "Bang Bang," also failed, she had less pressure on the third. "The third album ("Kelly Willis," co-produced by Don Was and Brown) was more my record than the others," says Willis, which may explain why the label had no interest in promoting it. Of her MCA output, Willis adds "I'm really proud of most of it."

The title of the latest album has led some people to call it a comment on her lack of commercial success.

"That's not what it's about," Willis says. "That song to me is the backbone of the album. (The title) comes across as arrogant, but that's not what I'm trying to say with the song. It's more spiritual than that. It's an unanswered question. There's been an emptiness. There has to be more, and I'm missing it somehow. The bridge (of the song) is the feeling of knowing that somehow you're not doing what you should be doing with your life. I've come to realize it's a woman's song. Women really understand what I'm trying to say in this song. They come up and tell me what it's about. Men haven't figured it out."

The album also includes two songs written by Willis' husband, Bruce Robison, including the title song from his most recent album "wrapped."

Even on his own album, many of Robison's songs seem tailor-made for Willis to sing.

"I feel really connected to Bruce's songwriting. I feel like I completely understand what he's been doing. I really love singing and playing his songs. We lived almost the same life. We both came from divorced families, at about the same age and lived with our father. He did come from a small town in Texas, and I was an army brat."

Some other songs come from seemingly odd sources for a country record, such as the late British folkie Nick Drake and The Replacements' Paul Westerberg.

"I never consider the category of the songs I want to cover," Willis explains. "I just like songs that say something and that I find lyrically provocative...Most of them I hear as country songs. 'They're Blind' (Westerberg's) didn't sound like a country song, but I thought it would be interesting to do it that way. But they're all songs I had a personal connection with."

Commenting on how the song selection might seem quite different from her earlier albums, Willis says, "I've always listened to all different kinds of music. I'm different than I was 10 years ago, but everybody is. Ten years ago, I was in a band, and it was a five-way decision about what songs to do."

As far as the eternal question as to where she fits in the marketplace, Willis is philosophical. "I consider myself a country artist. I know there are restrictions in what's considered country and played on the radio. My appeal might lie in areas outside of country music. I love country music, and I'm proud to be considered a part of it." She adds rhetorically, "What can I do if I can't get played on radio?"

One thing, of course, is to tour. Willis taking her band on the road around the U.S. Later this spring, she'll do her first major European tour. Hubby Robison will be there as opening act.

Willis' band will have more new names than new faces. Her longtime fiddler Amy Tiven got divorced and now goes by Amy Farris. Drummer Rafael Bernardo played on the album as Rafael Gayol, then switched to using his middle name as last name because it's easier to pronounce.

The band is rounded out by a couple of veterans. Bass player Mark Andes was a member of Sixties' rock band Spirit, among many others. Guitarist Jerry Holmes has been with Joe Ely among many.

Willis' biggest mass exposure to date might have come via a movie, but she has no plans to repeat it. She had a fairly substantial role in Tim Robbins' 1992 film "Bob Roberts."

Willis played a right-wing folk singer, and even a lot of her fans didn't realize it was her until the final credits rolled. "Luckily I didn't have to do anything but sing in that movie. I had one line (to speak), and I had to look surprised once. I'm not the best actress in the world."

Asked how she got the part, Willis replies "Tim Robbins called me up. He'd read an article with my picture, and he called and asked me if I played guitar. I exaggerated a little."

"Movies are not where my passion lies, and I wouldn't try to get a serious career going."

Her passion obviously does lie in music. "Americana is a (format) I fit in. It's not a huge market. I know I have country music fans, and fans from outside that world. People come out, and they don't really care what umbrella you're under. I don't intend on appealing to the masses. There are people interested in music who seek it out in all different formats. Through them I can have a career."

And who knows, maybe next year at this time she'll be holding a Grammy. Just like Lucinda.