Rasputina has been around for almost 20 years.

That's two decades of corset-wearing, cello thrashing and fairytale lyricism. In a juxtaposition of the dulcet with the grim, Rasputina founder and front woman Melora Creager has found a niche that no other band has ever seemed to oust them from.

Her skill with a typically classical instrument, combined with her unique, vibrato-laden voice makes her an unparalleled figure in a style of music most people don't even know what to call. Rasputina's latest record, Sister Kinderhook, the seventh perhaps depending on which way you count them, is a departure from the rock sound Rasputina has created in previous record, and a throwback to its debut, Thanks for the Ether.

"I've come full circle, in a way," Creager said when discussing the lack of rock on the record, and the new record's relation to Thanks for the Ether. "[Sister Kinderhook] is all pretty naturally recorded. I think with each record, I've just made what I want to hear. I try to make something that sounds good to me that I feel like hearing right now. I don't feel very rock; I wanted to make something kind of elegant and beautiful."

Sister Kinderhook is a bizarre, yet enchanting journey through the history of Creager's home of Columbia County, New York, where Creager lives. Kinderhook is a small town, the population of which being less than 10,000 at the time of 2000 Census. When it comes to writing about history, Creager is no stranger.

"That's my way," she said. "It doesn't feel right to me to write about myself directly. It's not that interesting to me. I get inspired by historical situations, but then personal things about myself and my feelings can't help but get in there."

Some examples: "My Little Shirtwaist Fire," about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911, "We Stay Behind," about New Orleans residents saying during the 2005 Hurricane Katrina, or "1816, The Year Without a Summer" about the Little Ice Age. Being able to keep an act sustainable for several years is a considerable feat, which Creager attributes to not needing much.

"I don't need anything fancy," Creager said. "Artistically, I've always done my best and what's most interesting to me and so my integrity isn't compromised. I could never be a one-hit wonder if I've never had a hit."

Rasputina's most popular song, according to Creager, was perhaps "Transylvanian Concubine," a song that appeared in the TV series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," and later as a remix of Marilyn Manson, who Rasputina toured with. The song's vampiric imagery pegged Rasputina as a goth band, though several of the songs, though unconventional, would contradict the label.

"I think it's things like ["Transylvanian Concubine"] that gut us down the way to goth stereotyping," Creager said. "It's not my favorite song by any means. It got us some good things and got us some trouble."

Creager's affinity for Victorian costuming came from the idea that bands weren't wearing costumes so much in the late ‘90s, more than attempting to convey a gothic look.

"It was a pretty nutty thing to do, but it seemed right to me because I had just come out of art school and it was making a fun project," Creager said.

Creager's project has been particularly inspirational for other groups and string players, though Creager has a certain modesty about her when it comes to discussing her mark on music. She herself has trouble classifying Rasputina's unique sound.

"People think it's going to be weird-sounding if it's described in words, but there is something very normal sounding about it. It's Western music — it's not avant garde or noise or anything, but it is an unusual combination."

The group makes a stop in Michigan during the Land of NOD Experiment in Jackson, a musical festival with a diverse lineup and the promise of being a somewhat mystical experience. Occurring July 23-25, Land of NOD is truly an experiment, and the lineup contains some heavy-hitters including Of Montreal, The Eagles of Death Metal, Trombone Shortly and Dr. Octagon/Kool Keith.

"I always enjoy playing outside at some kooky festival," Creager said. "You never know what'll happen."