Joe Pernice's music–whether solo, with his first band Scud Mountain Boys, or with Pernice Brothers–has always been a swirl of complementary influences. An early love of country twang gave way to the immediate pleasure of pop hooks, Beach Boys harmonies, and lush arrangements housing singalong choruses. This fall, Pernice will contribute to a book series paying tribute to influential albums, with a volume on one of his less obvious inspirations: The Smiths' Meat Is Murder. That makes perfect sense, as well. Aside from a shared love for jangling guitars, Pernice's music, lyrics, and vocals don't entirely bear the stamp of Morrissey and Johnny Marr, but it's present in the atmosphere, the music of a grown-up unruly boy who learned that there was more to the record store than U.K.-only B-sides, but who never shook the haunted melancholy of a teenage obsessive. The new Pernice Brothers album Yours, Mine & Ours strikes the same gorgeous, sad tone as its two predecessors, beginning with a track so immediately striking that the rest of the disc could consist of misguided experiments in dub remixes, and it might not matter. As "The Weakest Shade Of Blue" keeps making itself harder to resist, Pernice makes doomy, oversized romantic declarations about a love that's "ruinous and true" (okay, maybe there is a bit of Morrissey to his lyrics) before fading out with a falsetto pure enough to put an American Idol finalist to shame. Yours, Mine & Ours finds touchstones for variations on the same wistful, consuming need all over the place, from the brown lawns of a water-shortage summer (the similarly catchy "Water Ban") to a late-night broadcast of The Wizard Of Oz (the disarming ballad "Judy"). Pernice would run the risk of lapsing into formula if he didn't throw the occasional curveball (like the New Order-inspired guitar line of "Sometimes I Remember"), or if his craftsmanship ever sounded less than heartfelt. But when he sings about being "as lonely as the Irish Sea," or of hearts smashing "into a thousand summers," it's impossible to disbelieve him, or to avoid being swept away by his music.