All We Could Do Was Sing is the second offering from the Oakland duo of Van Pierszalowski and Cambria Goodwin, and follows on from 2007's collection of self-recorded early songs The Wind And The Swell, which gathered enough critical acclaim to keep them in the neon glare of the muso headlights.

From the delicate fragility of Stuck On A Boat or Valdez, to the psychedelic dreams of Fisherman's Son and Alive For Nothing, these are sea shanties for the modern world, at times turbulent and dark, more often foam-sprayed and uplifting. Drenched in guitar harmonies, they just prevent themselves from drowning in melody, nowhere more so than on the instrumental Rooftop Song.

Lauded by M Craft, tour buddies of Bright Eyes and Modest Mouse, the nursery chords of Don't Take My Advice show you why their talent and their sensibilities appeal to so many. There are echoes of Conor Oberst's depth throughout their lyrics and music, nurtured as beautifully as his songs so often are - especially in the half-whispered Will You Be There?

In some ways, once you get past the stomping folk-punk opener Woke Up Today, Port O'Brien are a gentler, quieter, Magic Numbers, stripped down and de-popped for a gentler crowd. Their music is instantly accessible, in places perfectly catchy - My Eyes Won't Shut, for example, which conjures up imagines of a Californian Kirsty MacColl, if you can entertain such a thing. It's homespun without sounding homemade, the sound of peeling, salt stained picket fences and neat lawns that look out to sea and dream of romance.

And then Port O'Brien will throw you for a loop. Just as you think you've got them pegged, out comes In Vino Veritas, lodged somewhere between a paranoid radio transmission and Victorian music hall, entirely different from its predecessors but none the worse for it. This itself morphs into the shouty, more furious Close The Lid, a raw and once again different side to their sound.

You could feel you're being cheated by learning that they have no plans to tour the UK in the near future, but somehow this seems only fitting. There's a distance to their music, as if they're floating away on the horizon, just out of reach. It's worth savouring them that way.

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