There's a kind of gauzy, depressive Americana that began spreading around in the '90s, spearheaded by the likes of Bill Callahan and Lambchop - these masters and practitioners of the slow-burning, baritone-voiced folk music that reveled in cynical humor as much as poignantly expressive dirges. The Super 8 are instantly evocative of these touchstones, the vocals pointedly reminiscent of Kurt Wagner's distinctive croak and Callahan's defeated mumble, and the guitars mournfully spilling deceptively beautiful melodies from deep within that hollow body. It's this beauty that saves the Super 8 from descending into utter despair; this beauty, you see, that elevates their crawling tunes into wistful reverie. But this singular voice and singular guitar are wrapped in wispy tones - reminders of the company that will always keep you, hold you, in the face of empty space.

THE SUPER 8, w/ Gary Alan May, the Hinges, 8 p.m., Northern, 414 ½ Legion Way, Olympia, $5