Can I plead my case that this isn’t some sort of ’90s revisionism post? While it’s hard not to miss the healthy music industry of that decade—one which was built upon the back of the consumer ($18 for a CD? Really?)—there isn’t much about those ten years of music that I miss too terribly. But, at the same time, Possum Dixon was very much a band of that era. I’m not saying their off-kilter brand of rock—one which teetered between the tags “indie” (as in a killer Ben is Dead review), and “alternative” (as in Lewis Largent wants them to co-host 120 Minutes with him)—couldn’t be the product of this decade, but it just seemed like they belonged in the Clinton-era.

While Possum Dixon had a near-hit single, viewable here, the band primarily focused itself around frontman Rob Zabrecky’s quirky ability to birth a pop melody from the everyday slacker minutia of being an underemployed young man, fresh from school, slumming it in Los Angeles. So, instead of the possible hits, we’ll focus a bit more on a couple deeper tracks from their stellar self-titled debut from ‘93.

To read the full post, head over to End Hits, the Mercury music blog.