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As a songwriter, Onitsuka Chihiro is a one-trick pony.

A balladeer not far removed from Carole King or Vonda Shepard, Onitsuka’s albums pose few challenges and offer few surprises.

That’s not to say there aren’t any.

In early 2002, Onitsuka released This Armor, the follow-up to her hit debut Insomnia. In the middle of a tour to promote that album, the singer-songwriter fell ill and canceled her remaining dates.

Instead of spending her recuperation doing nothing, Onitsuka went on a songwriting tear, recording new material and releasing her third album barely nine months after her second.

The downtime did her good — Sugar High is Onitsuka’s most emotionally charged album to date.

Onitsuka has gone back to the rawness of Insomnia and jacked it up many-fold.

Yes, the piano ballads are in great supply, and yes, her earnestness can be cut with a proverbial knife. But beyond the surface, Onitsuka has tapped a direct line into an honest performance, going so far to overcome a language barrier.

The opening track, “Not Your God”, is sung in English, and Onitsuka addresses her quick and surprising rise to fame: “I’m not your God/I’m not your hero/I’m not your Messiah/Don’t break my heart”.

“Tiger In My Love”, the album’s token fast-tempo track, sounds decidedly darker than “Rollin'” from This Armor or “We Can Go” on Insomnia.

In fact, “Tiger In My Love” marks a turning a point in the album, and thereafter, Sugar High actually remains pretty dark. With only piano and cello as accompaniment, “Hyooryuu no Hane” takes baby steps into Cocco’s wrenching terrain.

The Bill Frisell-like atmospheric guitars on “Suna no Tate” evoke ghost town images, but it’s on the concluding track, “Borderline”, where Onitsuka makes her boldest statement.

The track starts off quietly with just Onitsuka and her piano. As the song progresses, a string quartet chimes in, providing an almost violent counterpoint to the singer’s simple piano pulse. By the end of the track, the string quartet is whipped into a fury with Onitsuka improvising her own vocals.

It’s shocking to think she’d have that kind of angst in her.

No, Onitsuka isn’t the most daring songwriter in the world. But she is a tremendous performer, and the saving grace on all her albums — a naked, emotional rawness — becomes the star on Sugar High.

Japanese artists — or perhaps, their label bosses — strongly abide by that old addage: “If ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Onitsuka Chihiro’s inoffensive, inspirational, hook-filled balladry has been a huge hit in Japan for the past two years. The young singer-songwriter even managed to land a television spot in an American ad for Applied Materials.

As such, the last thing Onitsuka would want to do is rock the boat, which she doesn’t do on her second album, This Armor.

Everything that made Insomnia work the first time takes another bow on This Armor — an arsenal of introspective, pretty ballads interspersed with an occasional uplifting, up-tempo song. In short, it’s Insomnia, Part II.

If Onitsuka weren’t such a good songwriter, she could be accused of being totally predictable and only marginally original.

This time around, her songs are fleshed out. Before, it would be just Onitsuka and her piano. Now, tracks such as “Ibara no Umi”, “infection” and “Ryuuseigun” have a sense of direction, building up to an inevitable dramatic climax.

Even when she keeps things minimal, like on “Shadow” and “Arrow of Pain”, there’s a lot more going on than on such previous hits as “Memai” and “edge”.

Onitsuka’s limited singing abilities once again imbues her songs with an unpolished, emotional rawness that gives her the apperance of depth. If Mariah Carrey or Celine Dion covered Onitsuka’s songs, they’d become instantly shallow.

However much Onitsuka’s feel-good, God-loving music might grate on the sensibilities of old curmudgeon critic-types, her tuneful music ultimately wins listeners over.

Onitsuka doesn’t have the kind of bold artistic vision of labelmates Number Girl or Shiina Ringo — or even Utada Hikaru, for that matter — but what she does, she does well.

Resistance is truly futile.

Onitsuka Chihiro’s debut album Insomnia is a country album. No, really.

Just pick up Kathy Mattea’s Love Travels or any of the last two Kim Richey albums. Play it side-by-side with Onitsuka’s Insomnia. Translated into English, any one of Onitsuka’s piano ballads could be crooned by a Music Row chanteuse.

And don’t think that’s a knock either.

Onitsuka’s introspective piano baladeering is supposed to come across as Tori Amos- or Kate Bush-like, but it doesn’t quite escape the confines of adult contemporary radio.

Had Onitsuka’s producers employed more R&B beats, Insomnia could have shared some shelf space with Soraya or Laura Pausini.

But those big rock beats in “Innosence”, that big cadence in the chorus of “Back Door”, and those twangy acoustic guitars in “edge” just whiff of Nashville.

But where those tracks hinted at country, “We Can Go” goes all the way, sporting slide guitars, gospel-like backing vocals and a majestic chorus as optimistic and middle class Americana as pre-lawsuit LeAnn Rimes.

The only thing that stops Insomnia from being a Nashville-by-Tokyo lovechild is Onitsuka’s blessfully limited vocal range. Onitsuka is no powerhouse singer. She doesn’t indulge in the acrobatic histrionics of western singers. But she can hold a note well enough to do her songwriting justice.

And despite — or perhaps because of — her propensity for writing ballad after ballad, Onitsuka has assembled a pleasing collection of songs. Insomnia, the album, is a perfect antidote for insomnia, the sleep disorder. No, these songs aren’t so boring they put you asleep, but they are soothing enough to facilitate quicker entrance to la-la land.

(Zakzak magazine erroneously compared Onitsuka with Utada Hikaru. The only thing those two share is a record label, namely Toshiba-EMI.)

But don’t let the country-leanings of Insomnia prevent you from picking up this disc. Onitsuka has recorded a pleasant album, uplifting as it is haunting, skillful arranged as it is unpolishedly performed. It topped the Oricon charts for good reason.