Pink in the Sink

Folk-pop resurgence? Last decade, Nick Drake was "discovered," Kristin Hersh suggested "quiet is the new loud," Billy Bragg and Wilco made LPs from old Woody Guthrie lyrics, and Elliott Smith hit the movies. Yet, the genre seems bubbling now, after breakouts by Shins, Bright Eyes, and Death Cab for Cutie — all exquisiteness and depth. On this second LP by San Pedro bedroom-recording maestro David Jerkovich (also of Kind of Like Spitting and Ill Lit), who made Pink nearly by himself, one is draped in folk's warm, translucent, light melancholy (plus a closing C&W gem). It's like Smith's lighter touch, Hersh's Hips & Makers, Bragg and Wilco's "California Stars," or Nico's somber "These Days." It's best when Jerkovich's piano and violin invade like welcome house guests, adding tenderness to acoustic guitars. And Jerkovich sings with a feather-like touch, as if to keep us from waking from his dulcet daydream — even on a Beyoncé cover. Ummm.