THERE'S no doubt that Kelley Deal, sister of Kim, has the same self-destructive temperament and punkish rebellion of a Courtney Love. There is also no doubt that she has come to epitomise substance abuse and the fragile, little girl lost of the indie scene. There is something else that becomes quickly apparent after hearing Deal's Go To The Sugar Altar - she's hung up big time, on sparse, country & western ballads, corrosive polka dot punk and schmalzy odes that reek of loneliness and damaged goods.

It's true that Deal may have little left of her that hasn't already been revealed through the music press or through her narcotic dirges, but there is one truth and fact that no one can ever rob her of, and that's that she's made it over half-way and on her own terms. Deal is like the proverbial shooting-star who burns brightly and suddenly diffuses into a shower of half-lit cinders and at the last moment takes one last lunge upwards again.

Creative independence from The Breeders, it seems, has had that effect.

It is 7.30pm on a warm Minnesota evening and Deal is radiant, full of life and mischief. There's no grogginess to her Daytona-drawl only the quiet glow of achievement and cohesive thoughts. These days, Deal doesn't look too far ahead, only to tomorrow and there's no residue of any hang-ups on the topic of her battle with heroin addiction or the person she most often compared to - big sister Kim.

The euphoria that filters through Deal's every word and laidback mood is attributable to one demon that she has finally taken by the horns and tamed. Its name? Kelley Deal 6000 and Go To The Sugar Altar. "There's been a lot of things good and bad that have surprised me about this record," she grins. "One thing is that it's been really well received. People, really genuinely seem to like it, 'cos it's a gentle little number.

"Y'know, if you go looking at the album like it's gonna go rock your world it's not, it's subtle and people actually seem to get it, and that makes me feel really cool. I knew I liked it but I didn't know if people would like it," she visibly cringes.

"I was prepared for them to not like it, to be honest I didn't think people would notice it, or even care. So it's been a pleasant surprise. But, y'know," she frowns," my sister hasn't listened to it yet, or commented on it and that's kinda a bummer. Maybe I just wanted her approval, and maybe that's wrong of me. But it would have been nice for her to say 'hey, Kelley, it's great,' even if she doesn't like the album, 'cos it's not like she has to be this huge fan ..."

Recorded with the Grifters' Dave Shouse after a one month stay at the Hazleden Clinic in Minnesota, Go To The Sugar Altar is Deal at her pinnacle. Hot, musty, claustrophobic, trashy and hungry for trouble. The poppy Canyon is based on Deal's perceptions of a girl she met who was addicted to crack, while How About Here is an arid, Hawaiian country & western twangy ballad that strums and struts in that typical Deal polka-dot punk style.

One moment Deal hovers between a kitsch Loretta Lynn, the next, particularly on odes like Mr Goodnight, she's all distortion, schmaltz and black khol eyes. "Mr Goodnight is one of my favourite songs because that's where I let my guard down the most. It's like, I'm in the bar and I'm deciding who I'm gonna be," she explains.

"I went back and re-recorded that song again but I'm glad that I did," she beams, "cos it's really geeky on so many levels. I mean that's the point of the song. It's like a really good actress, or really good writers they have to put themselves on the line, and make an ass out of themselves. So I did, and that song is not a pretty picture anyway - it's supposed to be an unflattering thing and I think it's important that I do that."

Put it to Deal that Go To The Sugar Altar conjures images of lonely bedsits and empty heartland highways through its sparseness, vulnerability and lonesome strum and she squeals: "Yeah! That's my favourite stuff, right there. That old country music, y'know, 'I'm so lonesome I could cry stuff.' It's Hank Williams with an acoustic guitar and he just so breathtaking. It's so cool."

For the last two years Deal has been finding her feet, and her backbone without the support of her sister. In November 1994 she was arrested for drugs in Daytona and by February 1995 she played a few gigs as the bassist for The Frogs. April of that same year saw her family intervene and place her in the Hazelden Clinic, and by August (and the last day in a halfway house) she was back in the insularity of the recording studio.

This was a time of great realisation for her. "What saw me embark on this path was a day-to-day thing," she remembers. "It wasn't over a period of time. Y'know, I'm just getting sober and everyday it seems like something neat is happening. Everyday I picked up that guitar and wrote something or wrote words down, I thought 'wow, cool, I'm not embarrassed to sing that in front of people or to put my point of view across.

"It was more on a day-to-day basis and day-to-day level and not using drugs. So treatment had a lot to do with this."

September 1995 saw the completion of Go To The Sugar Altar. Shouse and Jimmy Flemion of The Frogs guest star. Deal also recorded Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground with Kris Kristofferson for the Twisted Willie LP.

While The Breeders future still lingers opaquely, and Kim Deal tours The Amps, Kelley Deal collects the accolades and unlike Kristofferson's angel she finds herself flying high again, but this time it's the sound of her own independence that has taken her there.