The Virginia band Labradford, sublime though it may be, does not make the kind of music that encourages solo spin-offs. The trio's music is spacious and lugubrious, with subliminal melodies and only the occasional ghostly vocals. Labradford is also seemingly bereft of ego in the sense that no single band member seems to be at the heart of its music; the group's sparse soundscapes don't reflect three distinct instrumentalists, just one collective hum. Guitarist Mark Nelson co-founded Labradford, but he's been noodling on the side under the name Pan*American. The project's self-titled debut full-length doesn't deviate far from Labradford, but it does explore some styles of music that couldn't be appropriately addressed by Nelson's regular band. Most notably present is a significant dub vibe: The music doesn't quite possess the rhythmic thrust of Jamaican dub, but it does work similarly well as ambient chill-out music. The songs on Pan*American are pleasantly repetitive, with scattered and spare percussion pitter-pattering in the background. A few tracks even toss in some of Nelson's spooky singing, while his somber keyboards and treated guitar subtly fill in the cosmic cracks. Pan*American won't knock you out, nor is it meant to. Rather, Nelson aims to lull the listener into his music, and in that sense, the album succeeds wildly. (Kranky, P.O. Box 578743, Chicago, IL 60657)