Photographer: Kate Gaughran.

Though not as endearingly weird or hooky as fellow countrymen Jens Lekman and Peter Bjorn & John, Emil Svanängen (who performs under the name Loney, Dear), proves on his coolly compelling third album, DEAR JOHN, that he belongs in the same sentence as his better-known Swedish indie pop compatriots. A host of indie influences are evident as the songs scroll past--"The City, The Airport," for example, begins like a lost Grandaddy demo, then swells into a Sufjan Stevens pocket symphony--but, when the music is as wide-open and breezy as it is here, this is a minor quibble. Melodies skim across layers of strummed guitars and well-placed synths, propelled by laptop beats--Svanängen's musical savvy is of the subtle kind. Still, DEAR JOHN is an intensely listenable, low-key triumph.

Since his debut in 2007, Emil Svanängen (the man behind Loney, Dear) has managed to evade easy categorization. It's simply not enough to say that he sounds like Jens Lekman, seeing how the main draw of Svanängen's work has less to do with his lyrics and more to do with mood. He's more like pop-oriented multi-instrumentalists like Tobias Fröberg and Sufjan Stevens; Loney, Dear is a quirky, bittersweet master of atmosphere. Svanängen sophomore effort, 2009's Dear John, picks up where his first album left off; like Loney, Noir, Dear John is chock-full of luminous instrumental textures and heartfelt lyrics. That said, Dear John is clearly more adult than its predecessor; the production is sleeker, the arrangements are more studied. Thankfully, Dear John's maturity doesn't mean that it lacks the fun stuff that made Svanängen's first album shine. Dear John's upbeat moments, ranging from the chic synth flourishes of "Airport Surroundings" to the joyful whistling on "I Was Only Going Out," are simply a delight. Similar to Svanängen's debut, Dear John is strongest when it strikes a balance between mournfulness and optimism. The album only sags when Svanängen lets things get a mite too plodding and somber; "Harm/Slow," perhaps sentencing itself to sogginess by borrowing its tune from Tomaso Albinoni's "Adagio," is simply not the most engaging moment on the album. That said, this is the disc's only real stumble, and overall Svanängen seems to have learned a lesson or two about pacing since Loney, Noir. Dear John shows that Svanängen has really gotten his act together; it makes good on all the tremulous, tender, wistful promise of his debut. ~ Margaret Reges