The story surrounding Sebadoh is one that should probably make people feel that the project was born out of the insecure tendencies of an artist. That may well be true. But the recordings that the ensemble has produced over the last twenty some odd years isn’t all the brain child of Lou Barlow – although he’s unquestionably the central figure in this bizarre saga.

In the late ‘80s as an outlet for his work that wasn’t making it onto Dinosaur Jr. albums, of which he was bassist, Barlow began recording work that formed the earliest snippets of Sebadoh. Along with multi-instrumentalist Eric Gaffney, 1987 saw the pair begin a spate of recordings that would span the ensuing decade. And while Sebadoh remained a side project, Barlow getting the boot from Dinosaur Jr., prompted the group to become his focus. In 1989, the pair, assisted by a wide array of folks and Jason Lowenstein, who would become the third pillar of the group, issued The Freed Man. It wasn’t a fully formed concerted effort, but hinted at the variety of music which would be included on subsequent discs.

Generally accepted as the point when the group found it’s footing, III arrives amidst a discography rife with disparate genres. And even if the disc doesn’t maintain a singular vision, the breadth of stuff included here is going to be enticing to a narrow group of music geekery.

There’s a focus on song craft over the duration of III, but the unifying theme would just be oddities. There’s not a direct Jandek connection, but the almost tuned guitar of “Total Peace” and “Spoiled” make reference to an outsider folk vibe that’s pervasive throughout Barlow’s work. In each of those songs, while remaining obtuse takes on folk, is a sense of melancholy melody that has ingratiated the unwashed, lumpen mass of independent music fans. On the first track, the few simple chords are churned up to the point where the acoustic instrument becomes overwhelming. There’d be electric approximations of this as well.

“God Told Me,” “Limb by Limb,” and “Downmind” are rife with early ‘90s tendencies. It’s probably easier to see that connection in hindsight. And even given the difficulties in wrangling a huge span of bands, there’s a commonality inherent in Barlow and company’s east coast nerviness and its northwest compatriots.

But really what Barlow has come to be known for are the clutch of lilting ballads that he cranks out, not just on III, but over the course of Sebadoh’s recorded history. “Violet Execution” is all kindly sung and should make listeners want to drive a van around the country. In mentioning that, though, it’s worth examining the relationship that Sebadoh has with the Minutemen seeing as this particular track could be a latter day D. Boone confection. Even if that’s disputable, the inclusion of the San Pedro band’s “Sickles and Hammers” is ample proof.

Disregarding similarities to other groups bustling at the time, Sebadoh was really able to take enough of a Frankenstein approach to cobbling an album together to make even the slower parts come off as highlights.