Yes dear friends, more lo fi. I’ve gone and done it: given in to the easiest journo catch phrase of the moment as to better explicate some recording that only a handful of people have the desire of delving into. But that might not be the case after finishing this here write up.

Confusingly and endlessly tied to what was going on in the Lou Barlow universe – from Dinosaur Jr. to Sebadoh – on Boston’s the Supreme Dicks fist album, the ensemble doesn’t really bare too many similarities to the better known Bostonian. Certainly there are elements that the two share, but that could be the case for untold numbers of groups functioning from the late ‘80s through the mid ‘90s.

In contrast to Barlow, the Supreme Dicks, on The Unexamined Life at least, don’t include some of the more popular ‘90s downer trends. There’s dissonance and whispered vocals to be sure, but the Dicks don’t ever approach Pavement territory. And while Slanted and Enchanted or really anything else from Pavement’s discography is a pretty important pillar in the ‘90s rock thing, it’s refreshing to reach back a decade and find an unsung group that wasn’t exactly a part of that.

Releasing only three albums and a few singles, the Supreme Dicks were apparently aware of the fact that their collective sound wasn’t one that would be readily embraced by the public. And during the ‘90s as a spate of noisome groups made a mark on the culture, it must have been difficult to be traversing the same circuit as bands that were garnering major label deals, but not move on to whatever that next level could be.

Songs like “The Sun’s Bells,” the third track off of the 1993 released The Unexamined Life, though aptly explicate the reason that the Dicks weren’t being courted amongst the then current crop of indie foragers. As the song begins, there is a readily identifiable, if not tremendously skewed, melody that becomes apparent. Its vocal line, all shuddering and uncertain, doesn’t grant easy entrance either. With the wavering shards of guitar noise that sporadically emerge from the muddled backing sounds eventually taking the track over, any sense of poposity is lost – but intentionally so.

There are some more laid back tracks that could have ingratiated the Dicks to a college audience, though.  “Garden of Your Past,” even with its odd guitar voicings boasts some low key moments suited for sitting around late at night and trying to figure out what it’s all about. And while the band had a penchant for acrobatics during its live shows, maybe that’s the point to records like The Unexamined Life.

There was almost no chance of this disc making history. And not to make light of the artfully put together amalgam of sound and noise here, but it is nothing more than history. It’s probable that the folks involved in the recording of this album – which included Barlow on bass at times – toss the disc on every once in a while and wonder why it didn’t work out. It’s a good question to ask, but one without a ready made answer.