Amanda Shaw declared in the title of her last CD that she’s not a bubblegum pop princess. So what exactly is she? A roots rocker? A Cajun artist? The next Bonnie Raitt? Or an adult contemporary pop princess?

All of the above, suggests her overdue third disc and Rounder Records debut. It’s worth pointing out that Rounder isn’t the same label it was in the ’90s, when it seemed to sign another Louisiana artist every month (Beau Jocque, Boozoo Chavis, Marcia Ball, the Bluerunners and Irma Thomas all did some of their greatest work for the label). Nowadays, Rounder is more a pop label with a roots/NPR slant, and Pretty Runs Out is definitely that kind of album. Anything too edgy or punk-influenced is out, so forget about the Ramones and Clash covers that highlighted the previous set. Instead, the disc presents the still-teenaged Shaw as a fully grown-up artist, with mixed but often rewarding results.

Producer Scott Billington, a holdover from Rounder’s glory days, at least makes sure that Shaw’s Cajun roots stay in the mix. But at times those roots are wrapped around some lightweight material. The presence of a song by commercial tunesmith Diane Warren is a dead giveaway that they’re out for airplay. At least Shaw’s fiddle livens up Warren’s “I Don’t Want to Be Your Friend” and makes it preferable to Cyndi Lauper’s version, but that doesn’t make the song any less ordinary. Parts of the disc are hung on a mid-70s LA country-rock sound; complete with a version of the New Riders of the Purple Sage’s ecologically-themed “Garden of Eden” that’s not updated musically or lyrically. In this context, the three purely Cajun instrumentals, while terrifically played, seem a little out of place.

Fortunately, a few excellent songs make it into the lineup. The opening title track, which she co-wrote with Jim McCormick, takes another sharp look at her own image and throws a great hook into the bargain. Another original, “Brick Wall” has a rare touch of teenage sass; and a funk/brass arrangement that screams New Orleans. And the disc comes alive toward the end with two genuine swamp-rockers, “Woulda Coulda Shoulda” and “Easy on Your Way Out.” Both suggest that Shaw’s true personality is more fiery, and more winning, than the glossier tracks indicate. Growing up is fine, but it seems a little soon to calm down.