Singer/songwriter/guitarist Angie Aparo, along with his drum machine and bevy of hired guns, delivers the kind of flawless, fluttery, lilting pop that lavishes the interiors of the Gap, Starbucks and Barnes & Noble. Though the Atlanta electro-folk ace's voice quivers with a nasal urgency a la R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe and his words are plaintively salt-of-the-earth, the songs are set in such studio-gizmo sterility that it's hard to believe his sincerity. But hey, it's good to drink a latte to.