After hearing a CD once or twice, I ordinarily have a good idea of how I will be reviewing it. Usually, too, I abide by a set of rules that govern how I should arrive at the assessment. The principal one is that I respect what the act intended to do as opposed to what he, she, it or they ought to have done to please my desire, taste or expectation. This time around, I bend the rule while conceding the obvious: If the Romeros want to do it this way, that's their right. Here, though, I claim my right not to be silent about it.

A married couple of instrument builders and music-makers who live in the rural outpost of Horsefly, British Columbia, the Romeros first entered my awareness as two of three members of the extraordinary but short-lived Haints Old Time Stringband (whose Shout Monah I reviewed here on 3 April 2010). After the group broke up, the Romeros went on to release albums, consisting mostly of old songs and fiddle tunes, under their own name. These records were pretty good. No doubt about it, the two are gifted with singular talents as instrumentalists and vocalists.

And then, as seems a law of nature or at least the music business, more and more original songs crowded their albums, of which the current is the fifth. They weren't awful, and the best of them adequately showcased the couple's unique talents. They were not, however, of particular interest to me. That probably says more about me than about them. Still, in retrospect a recording with the profoundly uninspired title Bet on Love could only have been inevitable.

It's all original and in good part in the language of unrooted singer-songwriterism. Though there are no more than four players on any of the 11 cuts, at least half them could have been set in familiar pop arrangements. Admittedly, the skeletal sound afforded by a small acoustic ensemble is novel and even effective, if insufficient to salvage misfires like the title tune, whose sentiments are about as shopworn as it sounds.

Nor does it quite save "New Day," which in spite of a gorgeous melody suffers from Pharis's overblown vocal, which draws attention to itself more than to the emotions it is supposed to evoke. The singing of popular and vernacular songs ought to be as close to conversational as possible. Pharis's prominent enunciation as "ay" of the indefinite article "a," pronounced "uh" in casual discourse with no exception I have ever heard, grates on first hearing and grows more excruciating ever after. If you're looking for a definition of the effect, try "arch" or "pretentious."

On the other hand -- I once considered arranging this entire review in a succession of that phrase but wisely restrained myself -- the Romeros have a fine ear for melodies. Some cuts stand out and are not to be denied, such as "World Stops Turning," with its charming Everly Brothers-like harmony. The cuts that most appeal to me, and they appeal to me a lot, are "Roll On, My Friend," "Old Chatelaine" and "Kind Girl," all with one motion in common: a nod to the Romeros' roots.

On the other hand (sorry), readers who don't come to this project with the conviction that there is already an overpopulation of singer-songwriters may find all of Bet on Love, including the personal, introspective numbers, more to their taste.