A young writer with a working sense of humor and no apparent agenda, Barnett seems like a throwback to a simpler time—Simpler Times being less a period in history than a fictional place visited through fairytales, Buddhist anecdotes, and characters like Winnie the Pooh, whose creator, A. A. Milne, is sometimes credited with the line from which Barnett takes her record’s name. An ease surrounds her music, a looseness: Even at their most clever, her songs glide from line to line and thought to thought, a stray observation about cracks in the walls leading to something about the wrinkles in Barnett’s own palm, propelled by rock’n’roll that seems to find itself plenty serviceable but nothing to stop and fuss over. “I just know what I know,” she recently told The New York Times; “I think I’m shit some days, and some days I think I’m pretty good,” she told Grantland. To paraphrase the composer and philosopher John Cage, Barnett has nothing to prove and she’s proving it.