O.C. POP MUSIC REVIEW : Odd Couple Are Hidden Treasure Rich in Emotion : Singers Marti Jones and Don Dixon have each released excellent albums to critical raves--but radio indifference.

Somewhere in the dark passageways of the music business, one suspects that this is a frequent exchange:

“Boy, this music is a real treasure.”

“Yeah, let’s go bury it!”

There must be some evil design at work, because there certainly is a lot of good music created in this country that people never get to hear. Some of it is able to claw its way to the surface (it took six years and a movie tie-in for Chris Isaak to be heard, for example) but there is plenty of moving, deeply heartfelt music--stuff that might actually do the national spirit some good--that goes unheard.

Singers Marti Jones and Don Dixon, playing the Coach House on Sunday night, proved a strong case in point. For years, each has released excellent albums to critical raves and radio indifference. Both performers are without recording contracts. The advantage of this on Sunday was that, without any current “product” to push, the pair were able to take a more personal tour through their wealth of material. The disadvantage was that, without media and label promotional support, there was hardly anybody there to hear it.

Dixon is best known as a record producer--R.E.M. and the Smithereens are among his credits--and Jones was one of his clients. He produced and played on her four albums, she guested on his, and they wound up married.

They make an odd couple, but an oddly perfect one as well. Jones has a smooth, passionate voice, like burning silk, ideally suited to romantic ballads. Aside from a few flashes of wry humor, she’s reserved onstage, putting all her emotion into the form of the song.

Extrovert Dixon, meanwhile, seems to be developing into one of the great white soul singers of our time, with pipes that sound like a cross between a more soulful T. Graham Brown (you won’t catch Dixon mock-emoting over fast-food tacos) and British folkie John Martyn’s husky cry. Sunday he used that voice to its fullest, wringing so much emotion out of his songs that they practically rained.

The pair demonstrated excellent song sense, delivering incandescent versions of Graham Parker’s “You Can’t Take Love for Granted,” the double-duty soul-country classic “Dark End of the Street” and John Hiatt’s “Love Gets Strange,” which had an emotion-wracking vocal from Dixon.

Jones countered that with “Crusher,” a surprisingly dark song about love’s demise, considering it was written by Liam Sternberg, who also penned the lightheaded Bangles hit “Walk Like an Egyptian.”

The pair’s best performances came on their own compositions, songs rich with both personal character and pop hooks. Some of those tunes had a clever twist: “The Man Who Would Be King” is about coping after your woman leaves you for an Elvis impersonator, while “Praying Mantis” likened a mate’s approach to romance to the cannibalistic insect world. But the humor of the lyrics was crosscut with the pain of love’s failures.

Emotion came undiluted in “Tourist Town” and “Any Kind of Lie” (the title tune of Jones’ last RCA album), with Jones’ voice capturing a beautiful ache.

Though armed with only two amplified acoustic guitars (Dixon shifted to stand-up bass on some numbers) and a thrift-sale conglomeration of percussion played by Jones’ longtime drummer Jim Brock, the group achieved a remarkably full sound, with more shading and dynamics than many larger outfits are even aware of.

That might be due in part to having a record producer on hand, but much of the credit also has to go to Brock, whose assemblage of jerry-rigged conga drums, African percussion and odd bits yielded a world of sounds. And his solo spot was wildly inventive.

Without new records to support, it may be awhile before Jones and Dixon pass this way again. Without separate recording careers, perhaps they will now more fully explore their potential as a duo; Sunday’s show often was just a matter of one supporting the other’s tunes. In the meantime, there’s another excellent husband-wife duo well worth checking out, Clive Gregson and Christine Collister, who will be at the Coach House with Exene Cervenka and Steve Wynn on April 4.

There were two acoustic opening acts on the bill Sunday, Christian rocker Rick Elias and the Reed Brothers, a local duo.

Devotional rock as practiced by the Call and U2 often pushes the line on dramatic delivery, with the ecstatic yelps, hushed whispers and biblical-grade pronouncements verging on rococo excess.

Elias was singing through a sore throat Sunday, so there’s no knowing if the strained shouts, rock-star throat-clearing sounds and hoarse whispers of his performance were there for effect or by necessity.

In either event, his delivery sometimes detracted from his performance, which otherwise was not a bad example of the art of displaying inspiration rather than just singing about it.

Brothers Dennis Roger Reed and Don Reed lent a bluegrass twist to the Byrds’ “Mr. Spaceman,” Elvis Costello’s “Radio Sweetheart” and Chris Gaffney’s “Frank’s Tavern,” and to Dennis’ originals “Nickels and Dimes” and “Manzanita Grove,” among other songs.

Dennis offered a pleasant if not overly engaging vocal style while Don burned up the guitar frets on nearly every number with lightning solos.

Worth checking out, the pair appear regularly at the Old Dana Point Cafe and will perform March 30 at Newport Beach’s Alta Coffee House.