Aimee Mann's advantage in the boxing ring is her considerable reach.

"I only weigh 120. And if you know anybody who weighs 120 pounds, they're probably pretty short," said Mann, laughing.

The ability to consistently stick and move has helped Mann successfully navigate a nearly two-decade career in the notoriously unforgiving, trend-embracing music business. So it's no surprise that both skills are the singer-songwriter's preferred weapons of choice in her nearly 2-year-old love of boxing too.

"If your opponent throws a punch at you, throw a jab and you'll keep 'em away," she said confidently, about the art of using her reach for effective counter-punching. "I've also been told that I have pretty good leverage on my punches."

Still, as with every pugilist from Joe Louis to Mike Tyson to, well, Rocky Balboa, even Mann has a weakness to work on.

"I'm really good at being very aggressive and coming forward," said Mann. "But the problem with that is that you walk into a lot of punches."

We know the feeling, Aimee.

Mann briefly unlaces her gloves Wednesday for her first Honolulu concert, at the Hawai'i Theatre. In song an ever-articulate, ever-honest and ever sharp-eyed chronicler of bruised relationships and broken lives, Mann arrives here touring behind another career first.

Mann's recently released fifth solo album "The Forgotten Arm" represents her first stab at putting aside the usual disc full of wise, graceful mix-and-match character studies to concentrate on a single, continuous musical narrative about the broken-down lives of two fictional characters.

Translation? Yup, "The Forgotten Arm" is ... pause for effect here ... a concept album.

KEEPING IT REAL

The 12-song story arc of "The Forgotten Arm" chronicles the relationship/road-trip highs and lows of a drug-addicted, Vietnam-vet pugilist and the restless, small-town girl who thinks she can save him from himself with her love.

And as with all of Mann's best work since leaving behind the creativity-stifling straightjacket of 'Til Tuesday — the '80s MTV pop new-wave band she once fronted — and major record label contracts for the complete independence of her own SuperEgo imprint, "Forgotten" is always rooted in the real, if not always real happy.

"The Forgotten Arm" resonates most often by being brutally relatable. It's likely "I Can't Help You Anymore" won't suddenly change the mind of anyone pondering leaving a doomed relationship. "I Was Thinking I Could Clean Up for Christmas" references the reality of anyone struggling with addictions, chemical or otherwise. And any couple that has run away from a problem rather than face it and fix it will instantly understand a song like "The King of the Jailhouse."

As with much of Mann's too-real-for-afternoon-drive-time solo output, commercial radio has (no surprise) largely ignored the two lost souls of "Forgotten" since its May release. But Mann, for her part, wasn't even insulted when music critics — mostly by way of praising the disc — name checked it as "concept album." A term, which at least until the recent success of Green Day's "American Idiot," was more often associated with Me Decade rock overindulgences such as Yes' entire 1970s music output.

"I didn't start out doing (a concept album), but about halfway through I thought, 'You know, I don't know why I'm fighting this, because it would be a lot of fun,' " Mann recalled. "I grew up in the '70s, so it's got a nostalgia (element). And it's so, like, 'not done' (anymore), too."

Though sporting a title referencing a surprise punch that comes along when a boxer is occupied being pummeled by the other fist, "The Forgotten Arm" is less about boxing than Mann's continuing fascination with relationships and addictions.

"(Boxing) was sort of why I made (a lead character) a boxer. I was certainly reading a lot of boxing literature when I started," said Mann. "But I think I was probably more influenced by random reading about drug addiction and alcohol."

And what's on your nightstand?

SPORTED A SHINER

"You know, I bruise pretty easily. And I've gotta say, that's not an advantage," said Mann, laughing, returning to boxing talk.

No surprise, Mann's husband, singer Michael Penn, was more than a little concerned about his wife's strange new extracurricular activity at first.

"He came to the gym a couple of times to watch me spar. And I think, at that point, he stopped worrying," said Mann. "Then I came home with a pretty bad black eye one time."

Cue the worrying again.

Asked if there were any music-industry peers she'd be happy to meet in the ring — not out of any kind of existing animosity, mind you, but because they also boxed — Mann offered some suggestions.

"I hear Bob Dylan is really into boxing. He owns a gym," said Mann. "You know who else boxes? Ricky Gervais from 'The Office.' "

It's suggested that the short of stature but sort of beefy Gervais might be potentially dangerous in a boxing ring.

"But can you imagine how great that would be?" said Mann, laughing. "I met his writing partner once and I said, 'Tell him I'll meet him anytime, anywhere!' "

Reach Derek Paiva at dpaiva@honoluluadvertiser.com.