For indie-music fashionistas, folk-tinged psychedelia and chamber pop is threatening to supplant Americana as the new black. That has opened the door for a number of quirky acts, including the Impossible Shapes. The group's singer/guitarist Chris Barth is no Wayne Coyne, but he does hail from the Midwest and harbors a similarly offbeat spirit bred from too many winter nights in the attic. Unlike the Lips, the Shapes' weirdness comes out more lyrically than musically. Across this album, Barth sings about Pan, demons and princesses with a light, whimsical touch. Most often the band falls into a loping, British folk lilt like Fairport Convention or Bert Jansch, but with a stiff, baroque beauty recalling the Renaissance. Call it folk prog pop. It's certainly successful. Barth's tenor vocals have a homey, unpretentious quality similar to Jonathan Richman. This takes some of the starch out of the music's urbane drift. The album's highlighted by the swirling "Demon Child," which sounds like the bastard offspring of Pentangle and Rush, and the rumbling rave-up "Survival," which has a lithe, rocking profile that stands out against its more limpid compadres.

The Impossible Shapes play the Earl Wed., Feb. 16, 9 p.m. $7.