The early-'90s alt-rock revival was in full swing by the time Big Deal released June Gloom, and it wasn't surprising that the duo also adopted the trend.

Their debut Lights Out already hinted that they had a fondness for that decade in its fuzzed-out guitars and the easygoing lilt in their melodies (plus they had a song called "Cool Like Kurt").

More often than not, the more explicitly '90s sound they aim for on these songs goes hand in hand with the full-band arrangements, which Kacey Underwood and Alice Costelloe often implied on their first album in the clever ways they layered their voices and guitars.

Working with producer Rory Attwell -- who helped Veronica Falls and Male Bonding adapt that vintage alternative rock sound to their own devices -- Big Deal's take on the '90s never sounds too slavish.

They introduce it gently on "Golden Light," which starts out like a typical Big Deal song, all intimate vocals and tangled guitars, before bringing in the drums and bass that give the rest of June Gloom a backbone, albeit one that bends to accommodate different moods and sounds.

The duo saves its biggest shoegaze homage, "Teradactol," for halfway through the album, and though there's a bit of the Pixies in the churning riffs on "In Your Car," Costelloe and Underwood eschew blatantly aping any particular style in favor of a moody, ever-so-slightly glossy approach that's especially strong on June Gloom's first half, where "Swapping Spit" captures the feeling of being alone in a sea of PDA when the duo sighs "I'll get used to it." Here and throughout the album, Big Deal is nostalgic not just for the sounds of the '90s, but for the best -- and worst -- parts of being in love.

They have a flair for cushioning those hard truths and questions in twinned vocals that recall not just dream pop's heyday, but the intimacy of classic singer/songwriters.

"What you wanted and what you chose/You can't have both," they coo on the excellent "Dream Machines"; "What if no one else compares/What if no one else cares?," they wonder on "Call and I'll Come." However, they save the toughest question for the weepy final track "Close Your Eyes," where the guitars explode and then linger in a bittersweet fog: "Was I on your mind?" While many of June Gloom's best moments happen when Big Deal fully embrace their '90s makeover, Lights Out's nakedness is missed occasionally.

When they return to this approach on tracks like "Pristine" and "Little Dipper," it's a reminder that their songwriting carries either sound well.

June Gloom isn't so much an impressive step forward as it is an impressive fleshing-out of Big Deal's music.

As the title suggests, it excels at capturing the kind of partly sunny heartbreak that can actually feel pretty good if you give yourself over to it.