Musicians claim the right, it should go without saying (no, that will not stop me), to call themselves whatever they damn well feel like being called. So we are obliged to indulge Atlanta's ESOEBO as it declares itself from the distant reaches of cuteness. The acronym represents Eclectic Selections Of Everything But Opera. Sigh or groan, take your pick. In any event, the core is Chuck McDowell (vocals, acoustic guitar) and Gail Burnett (vocals, cello). The Roman numerals that double as the title denote a sixth release. It is the first I've heard.

It got a hurried, distracted listening here at this critic's outpost in the remote provinces, then instantly linked to the sort of bland singer-songwriter pop that pretends to be "roots" even when, as is usually the case, the performer demonstrably knows nothing of actual roots: folk, blues, trad country and related. Thanks to an insistent correspondent, though, I got a chance at redemption, by which I mean a second, more politely attentive listening which occasioned more such, each proving an ever more pleasantly revelatory exercise.

This (it turns out) distinctive and uniquely satisfying album comprises 11 numbers composed or co-composed by McDowell, for the most part in a style that revives the most durably constructed mid-1960s folk-rock, plus a novelty song, "Airplane" (reminiscent of light-hearted 1920s jazz-pop), the romantic "Expressions" (early 1950s Tin Pan Alley), and "Baby, I Love Your Shoes" (rockabilly). Aside from rockabilly's natural charms -- if I have to explain further, I don't want to know you -- the song boasts a shockingly wicked premise. The joke is that the singer is a shoe fetishist, i.e. someone normally thought of as a pervert, but he proves to be an eminently likable one. You share his joy.

The rockabilly outing links the rest of the songs with ... jeez, I hesitate to say this because it sounds at least borderline nuts, but ... All right, I'll just blurt it out: the late Rick Nelson. What I mean is, when I listen to cuts such as "Sweet Talk" (with Brooksie Wells) and "I Don't Trust Her" (with Jonathan Richardson), I think of Bob Dylan's "She Belongs to Me" and "Love Minus Zero/No Limit" from his mid-1960s Bringing It All Back Home, only as sent up, contemporaneously and unpretentiously, by Nelson. Theoretically, Nelson could have done something like that. He was intelligent and talented (also, I might add, underrated), and aware of Dylan's presence and impact. Nelson eventually found his way to country-rock. I suspect he could have handled folk-rock just as proficiently.

The final two numbers take VI closer to pure folk roots. "A Woman's Touch" revisits the Old Testament tragedy of Samson and Delilah, captured most memorably in the Rev. Gary Davis's song of that name, aka "If I Had My Way." The terrific "I'll Follow the Sky" voices the sentiments of a compulsive wanderer, a recurring character in American folk song, in an effectively uncomplicated yet richly melodic arrangement. A nod to producer Phil Madeira and the band here assembled, who take material that is already pretty good and make it even harder to extract from the psychic jukebox.