Superchunk. Leaves in the Gutter EP (Merge, 2009)

"If I drift out into channels way too deep/ It's 'cuz I can't stand the shifting sand and shells beneath our feet/ Put your suitcase down and leave your shoes/ Gently by the door, in a puddle with your blues."

The aughts have been criminally Superchunk-deficient. With the exception of the 2007 7" "Misfits and Mistakes," the Chapel Hill indie pioneers haven't released any new material since 2001's stellar LP Here's to Shutting Up, the title of which appears, in hindsight, to have been a hint to their forthcoming silence.

But let's cut the quartet some slack: in the eight years since their last delivery, the label they founded has essentially blown up: Merge is home to two of the decade's biggest success stories, the Arcade Fire and Spoon, bands that have skyrocketed from fanboy obscurity to international acclaim. It's probably pretty tough to write and record new material when you're constantly trying to meet Win Butler's demands for more Faberge eggs and Bowie collaborations. I can only imagine.

At any rate, Superchunk -- who turn 20 this year, impossibly -- have broken their eight-year semi-silence with the Leaves in the Gutter EP, a classic good news-bad news story. The good news: this is as strong a batch of tunes as Mac McCaughan et. al. have released in a good long while. The bad news: there's only five tracks.

Despite its brevity, Leaves in the Gutter is bursting at the seams with the tried and true Superchunk sound: unceasingly hyper hooks, sweet-n-sour six string buzz, rushing rhythms, and wide-eyed melodies belted out by McCaughan in his eternally-adolescent tenor. If you're a fan, you'll be far from disappointed. And if you're (somehow, oddly; get with the program, already) not, then these tracks might just win you over, as overflowing with bright ideas and infectious energy as anything you're likely to hear. This EP once again confirms Superchunk as reigning kings of punchy, excitable indie pop, a band still capable of teaching kids decades their junior a thing or two about crafting blinding anthems and raucous verse-chorus-verse concoctions.

Opening track "Learned to Surf" might be one of the best songs Superchunk has ever recorded. Built around a patented Superchunk-style guitar line (file under: thorny), the tune chugs and charges brilliantly, as McCaughan cries out in his invigorating angry/righteous bark, "When I learned to talk/ I found words, they weren't worth dirt/ Heavy like the rocks we carry/ I stopped sinking and learned to surf!" It's straight shoutalong genius, custom-made for repeat listenings and bruised eardrums. There's an acoustic demo version included, as well, just to show that there's a fair deal of complexity underlying the brash bash-and-pop bluster. Check the fleet-fingered plucking for proof.

"Misfits and Mistakes" features neatly clipped riffage as its centerpiece, tightly wound and barbed; at the 2:45 mark, the song cracks wide open under manic drum rolls and cries of, "Put all the random pieces together!" Meanwhile, "Screw It Up" is Superchunk's summertime jam: crunchy major key chords wash up beside nicely reverbed strums and unspooling lead lines, glittering kitestring climbing ever sunwards. "Knock Knock Knock" takes no prisoners, drums and bass pinned in the red, guitars grinding away in double time, flailing solos the definition of unruly.

After nearly a decade, it's great to see Supechunk back in the saddle, especially when they're riding such an impressive (though brief) collection of new material. Leaves in the Gutter finds these Tarheels in fighting form and ready for action, a fitting memorial to 20 years of Superchunk and Merge; let's keep our fingers crossed that it's a harbinger for a similarly winning full length.

Leaves in the Gutter - Superch...

Superchunk. Here's to Shutting Up (Merge, 2001)

"Why so serious?/ When it's only your life that's at stake?/ Why so serious?/ When your life is the art that you make?"

I first heard Superchunk when most folks should first hear Superchunk: in high school. And I thought they ruled. "Slack Motherfucker" (the kind of anthem most bands would kill to write) sounded so amped up and exciting and smart. And the band sounded real young, too, with the buzzy guitars and Mac McCaughan's high-pitched yelp blaring out of the speakers in double time. Like so many great indie bands of the early 1990s, Superchunk made you want to get up off your ass and make your own songs, already. I mean, not only did they crank out killer record after killer record, but they even founded the Merge label (www.mergerecords.com). And unlike Pavement, Superchunk didn't sound like you'd be too dumb to hang out with them; they'd be nice guys, funny, with great record collections and beer.

So I listened to a lot of Superchunk in high school. On the Mouth was on constant rotation, and Foolish after that. But just like me, Superchunk got older, and started to become interested in more grown-up stuff. And its sound changed accordingly. By 1995's Here's Where the Strings Come In, Superchunk had developed way beyond its early clever kids persona and turned into a pretty mature sounding bunch of indie adults. 1999's Come Pick Me Up even saw production being handled by Chicago post-rock-dude at large Jim O'Rourke, a pretty grown-up move.

But the records always stayed quality. I guess I understand when folks complain that Superchunk always sounds the same, it's just that I take "the same" to mean "consistently great." Which brings us to 2001's Here's to Shutting Up, the last proper LP Superchunk released (they haven't broken up, but the various band members have been involved in other projects, like McCaughan's Portastatic), and another solid effort. By this time, the Superchunk model had been firmly established: catchy, straightforward indie pop played with enough aggression to keep things moving. But like Come Pick Me Up before it, Here's to Shutting Up incorporates some elements -- strings, electronic programming -- that sets the record apart from run-of-the-mill guitar records.

"Late-Century Dream," with its mid-tempo pace and snakey keyboard and guitar lines, starts the record off with a sober reflection on contemporary American culture, as McCaughan sings, "Everybody's trying to make space around what they think they've got." It never sounds preachy; more resigned, even amused. "Rainy Streets" and "Out on the Wing" are classic over-caffeinated Superchunk, all flailing drums, punchy bass, and rushing hooks, while the loping strums and pedal steel on "Phone Sex" lend the track a melancholy countrypolitan feel.

But the gem of the album is without a doubt "Art Class (Song for Yayoi Kusama)." I have no idea who this Yayoi Kusama dude/chick is, but he/she should be stoked to have such a rad jam dedicated to him/her. Quite simply, it's one of the best songs these guys have ever written. The main riff is a stuttering beauty, and the rhythm section backs it up with an insanely danceable backbeat. Add a couple face-melting guitar solos, and you've got a stone classic on your hands. Honestly, I listen to this song all the time, and each time I find the affectionate/piss-taking lyrics (about, duh, art class) pretty funny.

So, yeah, these guys have been around for a long time. And yeah, they've never really changed their sound. But I'll take well over a decade of consistent rocking, thanks. The fact that they could make a record as good as Here's to Shutting Up twelve years and seven records (not to mention loads of EPs and singles) after their debut is pretty great. Listen to the record and hear the greatness.