You won't find her name on the lips of many hipsters or hypesters, but take it from the well-honed ears of CC Club barkeep/tastemaker Ken Wenzel, who, during one particularly memorable Corbett set, enthused to a fellow fan, "She's the best. Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Chrissie Hynde, I don't care. She's the best. Ever." Corbett's to-the-gut magnetism can be chalked up to the fact that her whiskey-flecked voice can barrel as well as bristle and swoon. Even when her band or material is skittish, as a singer, she's never less than captivating, never allows herself to be anything but in the moment (be it at an acoustic set at Grumpy's or the MIA, or at a rock set at the Turf or Kitty Kat Club), and devoured by the song at hand. In other words, she's the real deal. Or in other other words (local songwriter Kraig Johnson's), she's a soul parade; don't fly away; we can hear the whole world spinnin' around when she's in town.