The Wainwrights are arguably the most prolific of musical families. They are also prolifically argumentative. Siblings Rufus and Martha Wainwright have both publicly expressed their hostility towards their father, folk luminary Loudon Wainwright III, through their music. Rufus penned Dinner At Eight for 2001’s Want One following a family dispute. Four years later, beardy family counsellors everywhere collectively sighed upon hearing Martha’s somewhat unconstructive Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole, from her eponymous 2005 debut.

The controversial novelty of that single ensured airplay through thousands of requests from Triple J listeners similarly embittered by the actions of parents, partners, unrequited loves et al. In a manner perhaps reminiscent of the release of Alanis Morrisette’s You Oughta Know in 1995, Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole garnered Wainwright a legion of fans inspired by its outright virulence. It became an anthem for committed victims and miserablists with an axe to grind and bunnies to boil. The admonishment of her father only served to introduce herself to the world as his daughter, thereby strengthening the paternal tie. It was a curious riposte to the father she bemoaned for communicating with her chiefly through song.

With I Know You’re Married… Wainwright has begun to distance herself from the legacy of her father and familial tumult and establish her credentials as a singer-songwriter. Her turns of folk, pop and soft rock are often adventurous and anything but the formulaic acoustic-guitar-and-a-feeling folk-pop that comprises many singer-songwriters’ repertoires.

However, the theme of discordant emotions recurs with Bleeding All Over You, a floral pop ballad incongruently teamed with lyrics about the absurdity of love for a married man. That our narrator evenly balances her love with jealous obsession is no surprise. Nor is the title line, “My heart was made for bleeding all over you,” redolent with the cacophonous ring of 2am phone calls made to the poor schmuck she has charged with bearing her woes. Similarly, one might sympathise with the subject of Comin’ Tonight, another victim of contrived conflict and, again, love turned sour. Wainwright attributes this contrariness to her “dark sense of humour,” but it does nothing to allay the image established by her debut of a tiresome diva with capricious needs.

The new album is therefore strengthened by forays into subjects beyond her funereal social life. Tower Song cleverly contrasts sparse instrumentation with anger over the injustice of war and the insincerity of those who wage it in the name of patriotism. The dark-hued pop of Jesus and Mary seemingly chronicles a perplexed, if a little cynical, search for faith in the modern world. Her mother and cousin sit in for a light-hearted cover of See Emily Play, from the fractious mind of Pink Floyd’s Syd Barrett. And the Eurythmics’ Love Is A Stranger gets a fun, jam-like treatment to end the album.

Strangely, it is the radio-friendly and relatively restrained You Cheated Me, about our protagonist’s nights spent alone, betrayed by her lover’s vices, that is the stand-out. Perhaps it’s just too easy to empathise with the guy.