Aimee Mann and Ted Leo are two veteran singer/songwriters who both routinely earn praise for writing songs that feel like short stories. That being said, maybe you’re the sort of music fan that squints and sniffs suspiciously when rock critics spit the phrase “literate lyrics” and make it sound like a compliment, like a dog that’s pretty sure there’s a pill inside that meatball.

Muddy Waters never learned how to read or write, and all the “pretty womens” that came to hear him moan the blues never seemed to mind. Iggy Pop sounds convincing when he growls “I want more!” yet comes off contrived when he brags about being “bent like Dostoyevsky.”

There is some happy precedent for quality literate-rock lyricists. Lou Reed earned himself a B.A. in English from Syracuse with a couple extra Latin maxims hung on the diploma to make it even prettier, and Reed revered both Raymond Chandler and Smokey Robinson equally. Even so, the Velvet Underground founder always seemed to instinctively know when it was time to put down his degree and just let the “colored girls” sing thirty or so “doo’s” in a row.

Using the rather precious moniker The Both, Leo and Mann have whelped a self-titled, eleven-track collaborative effort, the best moments of which, such as the lead single, “Milwaukee,” stir up echoes of Crazy Horse, as well as the late, great Chicago power-pop outfit Material Issue.

Really, most of what there is to praise on this LP involves the instrumentation. The guitar periodically brings some quasi-inspired “Ragged Glory,” and there’s a nifty little hint of Hammond B-3 organ just beneath the surface of “No, Sir.” Sadly, neither Leo nor Mann has terribly distinctive voices. Even if these songs were stronger, this duo has neither the collective nor the individual pipes to make the most of them.

If you’re not already a fan of Leo and Mann, this album will not convert you. For those listeners who come to this party hoping to hear a ripping good yarn, they may or may not feel justly served. I caught something about a hummingbird “marching on Monsanto,” which is nice turn of phrase, but I still say there’s got to be a better way to get your story across. You don’t play a paperback on your turntable. You don’t use “Bo Diddley is a Gunslinger” for a pillow at the bus station.

jlrichardson@mavs.coloradomesa.edu