She & Him are really catchy, but that is not necessarily a compliment. The indie-pop side project of actress Zooey Deschanel and musician M. Ward produce winsome and memorable tunes, but these tunes lack substance. The duo’s sophomore album, “Volume Two,” is a solid release, with pretty, bittersweet melodies, but the music breaks no emotional or musical barriers. Sticking to pathos with a smile, it offers very limited rewards.

As on their preceding “Volume One,” Deschanel sings, composes, and plays banjo and piano while Ward contributes production, backup vocals, and guitar playing. But listening to their music, the group sounds a lot more “She” than “Him,” Deschanel’s sound and outlook dominate the tracks.

“Volume Two” is chock full of pretty songs, but few of them truly stand out on their own. One exception is opening track “Thieves.” This cut sets the swingy, retro feel of the album, as Deschanel sings seemingly frivolous, yet insightful lyrics—”We two are makers, just made this mess / Two broken hearts don’t beat any less.” The sadness that comes through here marks one of the few moments of real emotion on the album.

Deschanel’s seeming inability to depict more than unhappiness, partially obscured by pluck, prevents most other tracks from conveying diverse or interesting emotions. One gets the sense that she only writes abstractly about problems people might have, as opposed to her actual experiences. “Me and You,” a melancholy yet slightly upbeat song featuring poignant strings and steel guitar picking is one such example. It takes the song’s narrator out of the picture, and focuses on an abstract subject, with Deschanel urging, “You’ve got to be kind to yourself.” Coming from a movie star with a successful musical career, this feels distinctly emotionally condescending.

Like Deschanel’s songwriting, Ward’s arrangements could have pushed themselves much further. The mixture of influences—doo-wop, Motown, old-school country music—makes the album feel fairly fresh, but it also inhibits it. Ward does not appear comfortable with any musical innovations, instead relying on decades-old standbys like harmonizing girlish voices and handclaps on “Home.”

One of the key features redeeming the complacency of most of the album is Deschanel’s voice, She & Him’s undoubted strength. Her vocals vary between soulful, childlike, and ethereal. Her voice adds enormously to the charm of otherwise run-of-the-mill songs. This is especially evident on the Ward and Deschanel duet “Ridin’ in My Car.” The song is typical She & Him: twangy harmonies deliver a bittersweet message of a lost summer love, matched with an upbeat poppy melody. But Ward’s voice fails to match Deschanel’s richness, and his parts are the low points of the song.

At times, however, complacency creeps even into Deschanel’s vocals. On “Gonna Get Along Without You Now,” Deschanel and her backup singers can’t even muster the requisite sass to convincingly pull off lyrics such as, “Uh-huh, mm-hmm / Gonna get along without you now.” Singing too sweetly, she fails to provide any edge to the track, and any possible feeling in it slips away.

Technically, there’s nothing wrong with “Volume Two;” Deschanel and Ward have produced a pretty, well-written record. But, as a second album, it could have gone a lot further. Their retro shtick works to an extent, but prevents them from reaching any musical or emotional heights. It’s light music at best, resolutely unwavering from its affect of bittersweet, upbeat melodies. She & Him’s vagueness ultimately fails to arouse any real feeling, leaving this album a disappointing failure.

—Staff writer Candace I. Munroe can be reached at cimunroe@fas.harvard.edu.