Staff Writer

There is an undeniable breeze of pop about the Sea and Cake’s newest set of songs. Sure, their past selves were agreeably tuneful – in fact, supple art-pop has long been their signature forte – but Everybody carries a certain new element throughout, a warmth that permeates their characteristic rays of bright Illinois sun.

From 1997’s Fawn to 2003’s One Bedroom, an air of distant overanalyzation has smothered the Sea and Cake’s mild electro-jazz liaisons. Instead of instinctually conjuring music, the band has resorted to a cerebral process of calculating and methodically seizing all the right notes – always a satisfyingly innocuous experience, but with enough lack of innate warm-bloodedness to leave something still desired.

Here, though, the foursome gently startles us with an inviting, endearing approach to saccharine Bahama pop: As stiff templates are defrosted, the album melts into its own skin, nothing scarce of comfortable. “”Crossing Line”” zips by with fuzz-buzz guitar riffs under Sam Prekop’s dreamy sigh and delightful doo-doo-ooh-yeahs, while the aptly named “”Coconut”” drifts sleepily along tropical waves of choral hum before “”Exact to Me”” kicks it up with a plucky bossa-nova rhythm.

Given their reputation for detached formula, it’s nice to see the Sea and Cake boys reveal a long-buried personal connectivity. It’s as if Andy Warhol ditched his typically aloof triptychs for a rubber smock, teaching preschoolers how to fingerpaint.