"I always think that Freud got it wrong," says America's Jill Sobule.

"It wasn't the first few weeks and months which made all the difference in your life - it was being 12 or 13 that really f***** you up."

One of pop's wittiest subversives, Sobule is one of those rare songwriters who seeks out "subjects which people don't write about but do actually think about." Over a decade-long career this has seen her tackle everything from celebrity obsession to the secret life of a gym addict.

But on current album Underdog Victorious she's been "regressing to junior high and all the stuff you never shake off", from the start-up bras and Sun-In hair of early flirtations (Strawberry Gloss) to the flying dodge balls aimed across the playground at fat boys and queers.

A poignant pop writer from the camp of Jarvis Cocker, Sobule is adept at fitting a downbeat subject with an upbeat tune - and, like Pulp, her biggest hits have ironically been those intended to send up cultural attitudes.

In 1995 she became a big hitter when her single I Kissed A Girl, a jab at America's fascination with lesbian chic, was seized upon as perfect MTV fodder. The no less ironic Supermodel, meanwhile, was soon finding teen fans on the Clueless soundtrack.

"I Kissed A Girl was one of those songs written in five minutes," she says. "It never crossed my mind that it would be my cross to bear. But, y'know, I'm kind of accepting it again now, because it was my 'hit' - and not everybody has one of those."

A much bigger name in America than in the UK, where she last visited some years ago in support of Billy Bragg, Sobule has toured as Lloyd Cole's guitarist, functioned as "the political troubadour" for various radio and TV shows and even appeared in an episode of the West Wing.

"Those rude actors were talking all over my performance," she laughs.

"But I did get more money being on screen for ten seconds than I've ever made in my life."

But her chief appeal, along with her girlish voice and shaggy blonde hair, is the fact she's remained utterly normal - the first line of Underdog Victoriou is "I still have a roommate".

"Because I had a couple of songs which everyone knew, people think I must be living large, I must be having some fancy place in LA," she says. "I've done five albums now and I still live like I'm in college."

Starts at 8pm, tickets cost £6, £5. Call 01273 605789.