Sometimes, you just want to hear cutting-edge music. And sometimes, you reach into that stack of old, overlooked CDs and give something a little dusty your attention instead.

I like that dusty stack of overlooked music, because sometimes there is treasure buried there. Such is the case with Sweet Wednesday's Wherever You Go.

I'm not going to lie to you, co-singers Lisa Housman and Dave Falk don't have perfect voices. They're relaxed and immediately comfortable, good enough to keep you listening through this album several times in a row. And you just have to listen, because it's obvious on every track that Dave and Lisa love what they're doing with their lives, and they're really happy about sharing it with anyone within earshot.

The thing about Wherever that really got to me, however, was the words. Sure, the music is punchy and memorable, but the lyrics are clever and fun, conversational and just like that thing you wish you'd said but didn't think of in time.

Take "(Lisa, I'm Sorry I Brought You to) New York City," the second track, which is every bit as apologetic as it sounds -- until Dave delivers a zinger at the end of each refrain: "Lisa, I'm sorry I brought you to New York City, / I'm sorry you're having a bad time. / The buildings stretch so high and the skyline's so pretty, / Maybe you'd have a better time of it / if you could just stop complaining." Nice, Dave, although I'd probably have had harsher words if she'd just cost me tickets to a Red Sox vs. Yankees game.

"Going Over Brooklyn" is a ridiculously sweet love song from a girl on a subway to this guy she sees and thinks she might have seen before. "Wherever You Go" is a fond recollection of the girl who got away. In "McDonald's," Lisa sings of the quiet despair that comes when people equate you with your job.

Dave and Lisa share a little romance on "Lost Without a Clue," which is refreshingly free of artifice: "I was lost without a clue / On the day that I met you, / I was tripping over my own shoelaces. / Then you taught me how to tie / Them into butterflies / And we went soaring over hills and churches."

It's hard to match the sheer joy Dave puts into "Grandma," sung from the perspective of a 5-year-old when the parents go on vacation and you-know-who comes to babysit for a week.

The entire album sounds like it could have been recorded in a casual live setting, just Dave and Lisa sitting on stools with their guitars in their laps, Dave's harmonica slung around his neck and vocal mics before them. That's not to discount the efforts of a handful of backing musicians; their contributions are nice, but ultimately they probably just weren't necessary. Lisa and Dave have this one well in hand. I hope they're working on a new album.

And I wonder if they'd come to my house some evening and sing for me, my wife and maybe a couple of friends. I'd really like that.

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