Sleeping in the Aviary are two parts ’50s teen idol crooning, one part indie rock muck up. Their songs come from a decade of gentle, swooning vocal harmonies that convey sadness no matter how joyous the declaration of love. Rather than focussing on the tragic deaths of teenagers, in between the love songs they reflect on bored housewives and fears of poverty. While they do break out the occasional frazzled rock lick, the focus is mostly on reverbed guitar lines that have a whispered effect rather than the fashionable swamp sensation. Maybe they’re not quite wholesome enough for the teen market, but there’s enough charm in references to eating ice cream, meeting girls on beach, and dances surrounding the more explicit mentions of sexual frustration to think of the band as charming rather than raunchy.

Sleeping in the Aviary play tonight at Bruar Falls and Sunday at Shea Stadium with Mister Melt, American Sun, and the Marsh Hens.