Indie-rock has undergone some lithe transformations in Chicago during recent years, as the city's meat-and-potatoes, guitar-driven bands yield the zeitgeist to a promiscuous slew of "post-rock" experimentalists -- musicians who typically dissolve and absorb genre definitions in search of a softcore art music.

The Sea and Cake has always been at the forefront of this scene, with a membership that includes former members of Shrimpboat (Sam Prekop), the terrifically underrated Coctails (Archer Prewitt), and the once promising but now rather dull Tortoise (John McEntire). What's impressive about the band is the ease with which it creates a textural approach to its songs, which float above tight but subdued rhythms interlaced by synthesizer, strings, reeds, marimba, and guitar. Meanwhile, Prekop's breathy vocals invite the listener to lean in to gather meaning -- or slip back and enjoy the flow.

At various points, or sometimes all at once, Oui suggests anything from recent Yo La Tengo to the serendipitous Brazilian pop of Caetano Veloso to the modal musings of Stereolab. It's easy-listening music for hipsters, and while ultimately a tad too flyweight, it does harbor considerable charm. The gentle meeting of strummed guitar and vibes on "Everyday" has the unerring simplicity of a love poem. But the band also sculpts more complicated soundscapes in convincing and alluring ways. "Seemingly" has the glossy lilt of a Barry White smooch-fest, dressed up in velvety "quiet storm" strings and Eric Claridge's smoothly assertive bass. Despite its flannel pedigree, Oui is the perfect backdrop for martinis and seduction.