Fine China. The Jaws of Life (Common Wall Media, 2005)

"So I designed a postcard/ To send out to my friends/ It had a photograph of you/ And it said, 'Happy, the end.'"

If you look up “sullen” in the dictionary, you may well find a picture of Fine China's lead singer Rob Withem glaring back, eyes hooded and mascara running. Seriously, check out the pictures in the liner notes to The Jaws of Life: these guys look like they’re in a perpetual pouting contest. I can only imagine the mood on the tour bus. Regardless, Fine China were a brilliant band hailing from Phoenix, of all places. They signed a record deal in 1997 and between then and 2005 put out three LPs. The Jaws of Life (sadly, because it finds them at the height of their melancholy swagger) was their last.

Withem’s dour, dream-soaked vocals combined with mega-catchy pop hooks make for a record you’re not sure you sing along with or cry along to. Either works, really; The Jaws of Life is equally at home on a road-trip or bawling your eyes out on your bedroom floor. Few bands are apt at serving both purposes; of course The Cure, The Smiths/Morrissey, and Joy Division set the standard, and Fine China stack up admirably, seamlessly mixing sometimes downright dance-y beats with positively grim lyrics.

"Rated-R" starts things off with a catchy organ line, then the guitar comes in almost surf-y, and then - wham! – that sighing synth smacks you in the face. You know what kind of record you’re dealing with even before Withem opens his mouth. And just in case there’s any doubt, lyrics proclaiming that, “kisses are the cheapest kind of drug,” cement the case.

"Don’t Frown" is presumably about a breakup, but just when things take a turn for the sappy, our singer is admonished repeatedly with, “You’re such a killjoy.” It’s shockingly easy to imagine that someone (or someones) have actually said this to the members of Fine China at some point, especially when the song ends pleadingly, “Please hang around, tell me don’t frown.” Next up is "Are You on Drugs?", hands down one of the best songs on this record, begging a friend to see the truth in a relationship: “Everybody knows/ That it’s not love/ Are you on drugs?” Condescension laid on so thick it devolves into hilarity; this is the point where you realize Fine China are in on the joke and you like them even more for it.

"The Cells Divide (And I Might Ruin My Life)" is a deliciously catchy gem about navigating the depths of vulnerability in relationships. Before that even has a chance to get stuck in your head though, you’ll be singing along with "Skull and Crossbones": “Somebody said I’m nice/ It tweaked me ‘cause they’re right.”

"Bivouac" is more mope-along than sing-along, but the crisp guitar and breathy vocals rescue it from the doldrums. "I’m Sorry For The Hating" is also a bit dirge-like, finding Withem nostalgic for (and ashamed of) experiences he hasn’t even had yet. "I Can’t Fall Asleep" and "Moving Up" continue on that theme, lamenting the aging process from the enviable vantage-point of a 26-year-old.

"My Worst Nightmare" sets fears of being abandoned by loved ones to a sing-along melody. "Prosecute Electrocute" breaks out the most Cure-like riffs, hearkening back to Three Imaginary Boys. And "Person Of The Month" rounds out the record with swelling keyboards and bass set to a frenetic drum machine beat, the singer begging his girlfriend, “I want to be the person of the month/ I need to hear you say you’re still in love.”

Well, I’m still in love with this record, and if you’re the only-happy-when-it-rains type, maybe you’ll fall in love with it, too. Who knew the desert-dry southwest could produce such moist melancholia, especially with all that sun? -- Anneke Chy

Fine China

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...

Act Surprised is taking the week off, and will return with a new post on Monday, April 27.