With a name like Unbunny, it has to be good

Combining stripped-down instrumentation, heart-felt lyrics, and a quivering falsetto lead vocal, Illinois' Unbunny creates the type of mood music that inspires me to do something with my life. Or, simply lay on the floor in the dark and soak it in. Lead singer Jarid Del Deo has a sincere, raw quality about his voice that lets you feel the emotion in his songs, while sounding like a cross between Built To Spill's Doug Martsch and Neil Young. Musically, Snow Tires is simple, lyrically it is moving. Del Deo has a way of stringing together words that seldom rhyme, and often don't make sense until an entire verse is done and you can step back and make sense of it. But he does it in such a conversational and casual way, that it just feels right. Highlights: Nothing Comes To Rest, Certain Lights, Casserole RIYL: Built To Spill, For Stars, The Weakerthans, TW Walsh

Indie pop survivor Jarid del Dio finally secures solid label representation with Parasol’s release of Snow Tires, his fifth album under various monikers and incarnations. Neutral Milk Hotel is still a big influence here, as del Dio’s songs dawdle and coalesce with a similar disregard for structure, but with an uncanny knack for plaintive melodies and weirdly insightful turns of phrase. “All over town,” he begins on “Casserole,” “The flat-chested trailer brides/Their braces and bottle caps jangle like tambourines.” And we can see del Dio wandering through the connecting yards and hanging laundry, dragging his white elephant of a failed relationship on a long fraying leash. “I Leave Stones Unturned” is a sparkly, bittersweet pop song driven by scratchy electric guitar, warm electric piano, and Roy Ewing’s punchy drums. Its chorus is reprised offhandedly at the start of “I Knock Things I Haven’t Tried,” a quieter number guided by acoustic guitar, subtle synths, and what sounds like a sample of air brakes on a city bus. It’s another side to the same argument, like the whispers after the screams. Maybe its del Dio’s warbly, Neil Young-as-whiny-barista vocal, but Unbunny can at times suggest a sparer version of Mercury Rev, or even Modest Mouse. There’s a similar sense of a psychological struggle twisting behind the tossed-off phrases and pop culture pipe bombs; the music is quieter, but informed with those same qualities of squinty indie pop. The gentle “FM” is a big, big standout, beginning with a kid’s chorus harmonizing like a Lilliputian version of the Polyphonic Spree, and “Pink Lemonade” really plays up that Neil Young-ness, offering dusty acoustic strums and shuffling drums tickled by twangy guitar fuzz. Fans of smart stuff like Elf Power and Clem Snide, take note. – Johnny Loftus