Troubled Hubble

Let me preface by saying that I absolutely love Built To Spill.

Keep It Like A Secret is one of the most brilliant albums I've ever been totally obsessed with, even though I still can't figure out what exactly was making that sound. In addition, Modest Mouse has been known to hole away in my archaic seven-disc changer for months at a time. As an objective, critical, quasi-pompous music analyst, I find myself at an immediate disadvantage when reviewing Troubled Hubble's Broken Airplanes, because this is exactly the kind of stuff I'm into.

We've all been there, the woe of a long-distance relationship. Yet, despite all four members of Troubled Hubble residing at different universities, they've managed to diligently play their music all across Interstate 80's Midwestern expanse. In addition, they've recorded two full-lengths and one EP in the two years since their inception. On weekends and the allotted breaks, these western Chicago suburbanites have met to create a light-hearted and enjoyable manifestation of rural indie-rock.

A follow up to its debut, The Sun Beamed Off the Name Maurice, Troubled Hubble's Broken Airplanes is a relatively seamless answer to the hypothetical question: What if Doug Martsch had included "Sesame Street" among the tenets that would guide the oeuvre of Built To Spill? That's right, cut every song on Perfect From Now On in half, insert amusing, frivolous lyrics, and you've got yourself Troubled Hubble.

Intrigued? No? Well, I wasn't talking to you. Make no mistake about it, these kids have a firm grasp on all the right aspects of songwriting. Nate Lanthrum is a captivating drummer, using a controlled panic of snare and cymbal strikes to complement the lotic interplay between the guitars and bass, rather than merely falling in on two and four.

Though vocalist Chris Otepka's levity may unfortunately prove to shorten the band's staying power, the intricacies of his voice are irresistible. Somewhere between Martsch's snotty, nasal preaching and a sober (if you can imagine) Issac Brock of Modest Mouse hovers our unlikely hero, the good-natured Otepka.

Spattered with miniature selections, such as the head-bobbing masterpiece "Fishin' " and something of a Neutral Milk Hotel song on Prozac, "Morning Person," Broken Airplanes is chewable and fruit-flavored, ideal for those who just don't dig the density of indie-rock's more brooding and melodramatic varieties.

E-mail DI reporter Dave Strackany at: dave@strackany.com