Scots Supergroup Reindeer Section

Son of Evil Reindeer Reindeer Section (Pias American) Tasting of Elliott Smith, Badly Drawn Boy and early Pink Floyd (not to mention the sweet flavors of their day jobs), the band's second album, Son of Evil Reindeer, is brooding and breathy and liquid slow. Don't come looking for a surge of punk-rock energy or relentless post-rave dance beats; you won't find a thing on Son to get the blood up. Even when they're feeling out of sorts it manifests itself only as resigned frustration.

Reindeer Section is all about "calm." Beach Boy seaside harmonies on "Grand Parade" and "Budapest," high and lilting girl/boy vocals and swaying waltzes all around, and everywhere a heartfelt lyricism that borders on junior high sentimentality (but with enough grownup grit to ease the embarrassment). Pianos loom large here, as do acoustic guitars, icy strings, smooth flutes and an unexpected but quietly efficient horn section. This is pretty music for pretty moods; for bittersweet melancholia, for long train rides through foggy moors, for lazy Sundays on the back porch while the bread bakes. Not for everyone, but if you have a soft spot for golden-era Donovan (without the cosmic hoopla), Harold and Maude-era Cat Stevens or the Folk Implosion, Son is pure, feathery comfort. Hot tea and biscuits, Mama's dry palm pressed cool against your forehead.

There are times when Reindeer's lack of spine can grow tedious. Not much besides narrative delineates one song from the next, and in a warm room the album could easily lull one into unconsciousness. Not necessarily a bad thing for the nervous insomniac, but perhaps a bit too much stroking for those who like it with some spice. The rather hypnotic quiet does, however, serve to make the rare upbeat track a welcome anomaly. Songs like the mile-wide and giddy "You Are My Joy" and the sly and strutting "Whodunnit" (the only track with even a touch of raunch) shine as much needed respites.

The most impressive thing about Reindeer Section is the simple fact that a bunch of musicians with other responsibilities have somehow gotten together to make what in the end is quite lovely music, an entire album without a hint of pretense. Twenty-seven artists and no overriding ego seems a near miracle.

And somehow, despite a crowd in the studio, Son of Evil Reindeer possesses a surprising and overwhelming intimacy. It's a testament to Glasgow's community unity that both the crisp production and clean, contemplative melodies benefit from the Section's unorthodox numbers rather than becoming muddied with the mix.