This is a very accomplished solo project from Michael Barrett, a busy young guy who's been drummer-songwriter-singer for Guppyboy, the Essex Green and the Sixth Great Lake, as well as a touring bassist for Ladybug Transistor. Against the rest of the Elephant 6 Collective, his outfits have been among their least hyped, but they are fabulously unpretentious, fun and worth checking out -- especially if you're a fan of the Kinks' Village Green phase. With Couches and Carpet, Barrett has made an epic Donovan throwback that works, like Donovan's music, as a counterpoint to Bob Dylan, Lou Reed and other poets of the street.

Over eighteen songs, two bonus tracks and more than sixty minutes, Barrett's individually modest strengths gel into some of the most consistently pleasing folk pop I've heard. The melodies are sharp, the music playful and the vocals as soothing as a Monkees TV marathon on a sick day. It's as if Barrett is trying to make listeners happy or get them to feel better -- even when he's just doting upon allusions to songs gone by ("Spanish boots of leather lying in the hall") and to the definitively mundane ("I step on someone's foot/And they say Ouch"). Like Donovan, he's eager both to reference Dylan (Bob, not Jakob) and to separate himself from Dylan. His sometimes poetic lyrics are beautiful, but in a "serviceable" manner. It's hard to explain, but individual lyric lines are beautiful ("I'm somewhat sad about staying home"; "Don't forget about me"; "Your dress was fiery red") in the context of their songs, and seemingly commonplace outside of them. It's Barrett's modesty and his matter-of-fact truths that power them, as well as his very sincere vocals. He interprets his lyrics as Billie Holiday approached her material, which ultimately means that some material ("Do you know how many times you fucked your head up? /Just a couple, a couple of million") succeeds on good intentions alone.

For fans of the more psychedelic side of the E6 Collective, the pleasures are less bountiful. You'll find them in numbers like "Queen Cherry Red" (which incorporates a chase scene music reminiscent of a gripping Get Smart moment) and "Four Nicks Up" (which also pays homage to the "Wrapping"-era Lou Reed, if you can imagine). Barrett's heart is more deeply contained in the folk pop; his gentle earnestness helps familiar-sounding tracks like "Upstairs in My Room" and "Roll on Home" to remain fresh and fun. The latter closes the documented portion of the record, injecting innocence into its blend of "Willin" and "Can't Find My Way Home", while the "Room" song does everything that "In My Room" and other of its classic precedents achieved: beautiful yearning guitar licks, tender vocals and small, simple sentences joined at the hip of nostalgia and melancholia.

The pronouncements made throughout Couches and Carpet are never that deep ("There's a band in town at the Mercury Lounge/And they're gonna need a place to stay"), but pop doesn't demand profundities. All it needs is honesty -- and that's what we get throughout this pure and simple pleasure.