Husky songs do seem to be mostly about fading light. It's something that Husky Gawenda, lead singer of the Melbourne, Australia group, suggests is the only kind of light that he finds. The fading light is neither here or there, but it's recognizable for its non-existent qualities as much as it is for the qualities that are here, abounding. They are those quaint matters of the heart and of the faraway places that they take us to, even if we physically travel nowhere in search of, or in acquiring them. The songs on the group's astonishingly beautiful Sub Pop debut album, "Forever So," take us into these stories of people as they exist in a fluttery state, suspended by the phantoms they've kept around and all of their whisperings. We seem to sense some ghostly streets that were once thought to be the places where love was to be found, only to have discovered that they were just hard surfaces like so many before them. We sense that there is a tremendous blurring of trade winds and breezes that can't be placed anywhere, but they're welcome to have around. Gawenda sings on the song, "Animals & Freaks," "There was something going on that night/But I don't know what it was/There was something going on that night/I was waiting/We were just waiting for it/I forgot everything I knew in the ancient sea that night/When she slipped her dress off shivering and clung to me so tight/And then she whispered in my ear, 'There is nowhere else but here'/Nowhere…/We spent three weeks in a cheap hotel/Corroding by the sea/Tangled up in sheets and love and ancient misery/One day I woke to see her leave, she had an eagle on her sleeve/The last I heard she took the bird to catch snakes in Mexico…/Hey man, do you want to hear a story about me?" It's that fading like again, providing a prelude disguised as an epilogue, or is it an epilogue moonlighting as a prelude?