It’s telling that the liner notes to Pseudosix offer up a shout-out to the basements “in which so much music is invented,” because this Portland, Ore.-based group radiates an organic reclusivity that suggests Built to Spill if they were bingeing on ‘70s country and soft rock in a dank cavern. Frontman/guitarist Tim Perry possesses a warm-‘n’-fuzzy vocal tone that complements brown slacks and wood-paneled station wagons, and he spends a great deal of time using it to express his desire to be left alone. “I wanna live in an enclave/Separate from the rest/We’ll keep a permanent distance/While everything on the other side’s a mess,” he monotones on “Enclave,” as mellow, red-velvet pop spreads around him like a pool of blood and bluesy guitar figures trigger angel-choir harmonies. As one might expect, there’s plenty of practiced lethargy, peeking out through closed blinds, agonizing over friendships and sleepy piano to go around; it’s surprising, though, how much empathy the abominably named Pseudosix elicits.

...If this review gushes to the point of sycophancy, it’s only because Pseudosix deserves more than just a fair shake on a rigged bet. They deserve to a wider frame of acclaim, making music with more depth, soul, and goose-bump emotional punch than hundreds of other bands tinkling the keys, scribbling some slide guitar in, and then calling themselves the sensitive lads who never get the girl. Pseudosix will confound you, cotton you in cold comfort, and salvage your deepest brokenness by rendering it unbearably beautiful. Not even Cat Power cuts this close to the bone.

Pseudosix began as Tim Perry's solo project, but quickly became a group effort with Emil Amos (Grails, Dolorean), Joe Kelly, and a handful of other local, talented friends. The band has written and recorded with pals from Joggers, Decemberists and The Standard in their relatively short existence, but the impetus has been barreling towards this release since back in the day when Perry wrestled with the nerve to perform live, solo. The music is haunting, catchy and incredibly good -- taking a little from bands like Blitzen Trapper, a dab from Grizzly Bear and an impressive guitar tone that reminds us of Nels Cline's remarkable guitar solo in "Impossible Germany," from this year's Wilco release. The band does not have any out of state tour dates at the moment, but we expect that to change fairly quickly.

Tim Perry's Portland-based collective may includes members of many of his hometown's best indie bands—guitarist Dan Wilson and drummer Jake Morris are play in the Joggers, pianist Jay Clarke plays with the Standard and Delorean, and guitarist Emil Amos, who is no longer in the group but plays on this LP, is in both Grails and Holy Sons—but its music unlike all of theirs. On Pseudosix's winningly original sophomore effort, the band blends their local scene's scruffy, DIY vibe with the complex harmonies of the best vintage '60s pop for an effect that's akin to well-sung Built To Spill covers of Zombies songs. Tracks like "Apathy And Excess" weave dense vocal harmonies over aching orchestrations of strings, pianos and shimmering guitars, taking the lessons learned from the lush folk-rock of Rubber Soul and applying them to darkly depressive songs too obviously bruised for Lennon and McCartney's mop-top phase. Even the jauntiest tunes on this self-titled release ("Waisting Taking Up Space" or "Enclave," for example) have dark undertones or some minor-key danger lurking under their richly detailed surface. As the record goes on, the smooth brushstrokes and painstaking sweetness of the compositions dissipates and the band's highly literate yet shaggy slackerdom comes to the fore. Tracks like "Fire Vs. Flame" and "A Million Shards" close the album by proving that the band owes as much to Pavement as they do the Beatles. It is, in fact, that exact mix of underlying cynicism and overt loveliness that makes this record so breathtaking.