Anjali is a luscious, pouting diva who sings as if in a postcoital reverie over music as groovy and camp as Barbarella and sexier than a Jacuzzi full of Angelina Jolies. Damn, I’ve died and gone to cosmic-kitsch heaven. Once part of Voodoo Queens, this Anglo-Indian chanteuse has transformed herself into a loin-inflaming singer-producer who pushes all the right buttons. Though derivative in some respects (Anjali serves up classic surf-rock and garage-pop riffs heard in every ’60s teensploitation movie), Lady A‘s odd instrumental combinations — a gorgeous panoply of strings, harpsichords, theremins and sitars — swirl and buzz around the kind of space-age synth twitters and bleeps that animated Jean-Jacques Perrey’s Moogtastic LPs. Lady A embodies the best elements of an influences-in-a-blender approach and coats it all in a luxurious, lip-gloss sheen. Can your libido handle it?