At first blush, what seems to make this album merit the adjective "eccentric" is not its sound, recognizable to anyone who knows vintage American pop music, but its apparent preservationist ethic as applied to a genre widely presumed -- "thought" may overstate the requisite degree of cognitive effort -- to be disposable. Produced by singer-songwriter Teddy Thompson, (Happy Again) revives a style from the 1920s. That decade is remembered for its oversized role in introducing jazz, blues, country and other forms into a nation's collective musical consciousness. These genres survive, if often in updated, hybrid versions, well into the new century.

The lightweight pop of the 20th century's third decade, however, was typically not much more than sugar in the ears. Some of it was reinterpreted by other performing acts and recording artists of the period, coarsened, toughened and recycled in the repertoires of folk and vernacular musicians who liked to parody the songs in bawdy directions. In any event, few such songs in the intervening decades have survived in their native garb. One revivalist exception I can think of is Tiny Tim's, whose interpretations were sufficiently excessive to border on creepy.

Bill & the Belles do not revisit the 1920s songbook. In fact, their 11 songs are all the creations of guitarist and lead vocalist Kris Truelsen, the Bill of the band. The three other members (Kalia Yeagle, Helena Hunt and Andrew Small) comprise the Belles, at least on this recording; banjoist Aidan Vansuetendael has since replaced Hunt. Each has a serious background as a player, sometimes as an actual scholar, of oldtime Appalachian music, which this isn't. The one song that would lead an informed listener to the conclusion that oldtime is not unknown to the band, though, is "Bye Bye Bill," which hints that the singer has heard "Hobo Bill's Last Ride." There's also the string-band instrumentation. On the other hand, there are as well the doo-wop choruses, which arrive without warning. Yet they work nicely and will likely shock a smile out of you.

Weirdly, whatever most of the harmonies, melodies and arrangements might lead you to believe, (Happy Again) is not at its heart a good-time album, at least if you bother to read the lyrics and begin to comprehend that, in common with Hank Williams and a million other sufferers, Truelsen is recounting the stages of a real-life divorce. And here I thought I could spot a sincere divorce song 10 miles away. I even wrote a few in my songwriting days.

The more one listens to this, the more unexpectedly sophisticated it grows, and less easy to put down or, for that matter, into a sealed box. The listener is puzzled at first why such superior musicianship and melodicism are applied to so witless a genre. I imagine that most who hear it only once (if they get that far) will have that impression. But Bill & the Belles are crafty enough -- in both senses of the adjective -- to ensure the album only gradually reveals its true self.

I suppose, however, that the meaning of the songs is more explicit in live performance when audience members are paying generally more focused attention. The beleaguered reviewer, on the other hand, is trying to juggle the multiple packages of CDs that show up almost daily in the mail. That reviewer begins to realize at some point that short shrift has been given to an occasional deserving work; either it's ignored, or it's reviewed in ignorance of what more patient listening -- i.e., one that takes up more of one's time -- would bring to light.

All the while, though some artists and readers may doubt it, the average reviewer possesses a conscience which sternly admonishes him or her to try to be fair. I expect that this one and Turner Cody's (reviewed here this past 22 May) may serve to complicate my life. Each proved worth the extra attention even as it made my labors more formidable. That, obviously, is my problem. On the other hand, with proper respect and patience, (Happy Again) can be your joy.