Deception Pass is the kind of music that's never going to be flashy enough to draw a lot of attention from either the public or the press. But it has a droll, unassuming charm for those with the patience to dig into personal, low-key indie rock that is about as un-in-your-face as anything from the early '00s. It might not be bursting with hooks, yet Bret Lunsford's songs are bursting with likability, both in their easygoing tunefulness and the offhand, nonchalant intelligence of the lyrics. In keeping with much of what comes out on Knw-Yr-Own, there's an informal folk-rock-around-the-living room, friends-getting-together ambience to the minimal (though not clumsy) arrangements, with help from bandmates Karl Blau and Phil Elvrum. Lunsford's odd stoic, folk-countryish drawling vocal style masks some unconventional and probing lyrics, evoking characters cognizant of their flaws and misdeeds, yet ones (unlike those in so many straight country songs) determined not to be resigned and fatalistic. They might be pretty inscrutable at times, admittedly (an entire song devoted to phrases comparing "planting sounds" to numerous images of nature), but the sense of brutally honest self-searching transcends the vagueness of some of the words. What to make, though, of the collage of 18 minutes or so of bonus noise that comes on a few minutes after the final listed track stops, including song fragments, household noises, murky noise that sounds like a radio dial stuck between stations, harsh distorted vocal chanting, and more?