Aimee Mann steeps herself in specifics when writing lyrics.

‘‘You look like a perfect fit, for a girl in need of a tourniquet,’’ she sings in ‘‘Save Me,’’ from the soundtrack of the 2000 film, ‘‘Magnolia.’’

In ‘‘High On Sunday 51,’’ on her latest release, ‘‘Lost In Space,’’ Mann writes that, ‘‘We have crossed the Rubicon, our ship awash, our rudder gone, the rats have fled, but I’m hanging on ...’’

These are sharp images from a musician who transcended the 1980s glam of the MTV band ’Til Tuesday to carve out a new identity and sound that regional music lovers can hear on Sunday at The Chance in Poughkeepsie. Mann is scheduled to headline the annual WDST (100.1 FM) Holiday Concert on a bill that also includes Jeffrey Gaines and Andy Stochanksy.

Conjuring images
The title of Mann’s latest album might conjure images for some of an old television program with a clever robot and a somewhat normal family of the future whose rocketship has simply failed them.

But the phrase ‘‘Lost in Space’’ for others might conjure a situation where panic is permissible, as a space pod tumbles out of control, without power, across star fields, leaving its pilot alone with a dwindling oxygen supply and fading view of Earth.

Ask Mann about the title and you may or may not walk away with an answer. Unlike the persona she projects onto her lyrics, Mann in conversation is as elusive as she seems to be evasive.

‘‘I had the title,’’ Mann said during a recent telephone interview. ‘‘That’s just where I kind of wound up. It sums up the vibe of the record.’’

Talk further with Mann and a picture of the emotions driving the album begins to emerge. But as craftily as she can wrap a phrase around a melody or find a rhyme for tourniquet, she manages to throw a bone to bite on without giving herself away.

Focusing in

A theme that connects the songs on ‘‘Lost In Space,’’ she offers up for consideration, is addiction.

‘‘You can only feel so bad for so long,’’ she said. ‘‘Then you have to try to do something about it. The need to try and feel different is what leads people to drug addiction or any kind of addiction. It’s about narrowing your focus and having your behavior become kind of compulsive.’’

Mann’s songs are often tales told from her point of view, a catalog of her emotions or they focus on her take of a dire situation that somehow manages to warrant an assessment despite its hopelessness.

Yet for the prominent role she takes as a character in her songs, Mann manages to avoid being self-centered and doesn’t feel sorry for herself. And she places her words in the context of music that often conjures George Harrison’s contribution on guitar to the overall Beatles sound.

‘‘Aimee Mann is the best female singer-songwriter of our generation,’’ said John Greak, who works at Rhino Records in New Paltz. 
‘‘Her cynicism shines through, but there is still that glimmer of hope in the end. Aimee Mann is the real deal.’’

Observing feelings

But don’t try to pin the somber yet soulful sound, catchy and colorful hooks of ‘‘Lost In Space’’ on Mann’s personal side.

‘‘It’s possible to know both what that feels like and yet not be sort of huddled in a corner in your own filth, and be able to interact with the outside world,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve certainly known what it’s like to be really depressed ... the thing to do is you observe it and you comment on it and that’s what keeps you from being in it.’’

And how about that tourniquet? Now we’re getting somewhere.

‘‘To me that says it all,’’ she said. ‘‘It’s the feeling where you feel in emotional terms that you’re bleeding to death. There is sort of a vitality that you’re losing. And you’re looking for somebody to be sort of a stop-gap measure.’’