Oakland trio Pomegranate offers dusky Alt Rock gold for the patient listener. Singer Gavin Canaan's drowsy voice and low-register anti-theatrics candyflip with his graceful, fluid guitar lines that sting with jolts of contained, melodic electricity. Waltz-metered acoustic pieces, augmented with spooky harmonies and dark shadings, complement full-on electric assaults driven by distorted guitar stuntwork that recalls J Mascis, albeit neater and less Hardcore-based. Backed by a propulsive rhythm section that charges and recedes with dynamic precision, Canaan's weighty songs reveal their unusual beauty deliberately. Those with a monk's patience will benefit from the indelible stain of the band's namesake, crimsoned to the core with sleepy undertones, mysteriously alluring riffs, and disguised, ingratiating rhythms.