Death Cab for Cutie Turns On the Psychedelic Sonic Charm

Death Cab for Cutie nicked its name from a Bonzo Dog Band song, but on Friday at the El Rey Theatre, the indie-pop quartet proved as sincere as the ‘60s British rock comedians were satirical.

The music press has swooned over this Seattle-based group’s eccentric underground pop, which isn’t entirely humorless but tends toward quiet despair over unrequited love, family dissolution, unhappy living conditions, etc. Thus, skeptics in Friday’s large crowd fretted over the band’s thematic kinship with brooding artists whose work can rapidly become too precious or droningly dull, especially in concert.

Happily, the 75-minute set, featuring tunes from its recent collection, “The Photo Album,” and other works, was rich in sonic variety and charm. Equally important, the songs were grounded by unpretentious emotion that never became self-indulgent.

The high, sweet ache in singer-songwriter-guitarist Ben Gibbard’s voice made the tunes poignant but not overly self-pitying. Opening with a drifting number that underscored the music’s pensiveness, Gibbard, bassist Nick Harmer, guitarist Chris Walla and drummer Michael Schorr shifted fluidly among warped ‘80s psychedelia, melodic guitar buzz, fey folkiness and stuttering, angular rock.

You could forgive the anti-L.A. bias in a couple numbers (for which Gibbard wryly apologized), but not the choice to cover Eurythmics’ lame melodrama “Here Comes the Rain Again.” Ah, but that’s nitpicking, especially since Death Cab did establish itself as that rare act deserving of its praise.