suppose there’s no better way to begin this review than to say this: if you don’t like Death Cab For Cutie, there’s no chance that you will ever enjoy DCFC frontman Ben Gibbard’s All-Time Quarterback project. Ever.

That having been said, Death Cab For Cutie are one of only a handful of bands today that split the indie community directly in half. Side A casts them aside as featherweight Built To Spill wannabes (which, in all fairness, should have been dispelled by their sophomore album) while Side B falls prey to their serene melodies, lilting guitar work, cozy production, and flawless rhythm section. Without those last three, one is, in effect, left with All-Time Quarterback. Once again, Side A will decry the cloying, weepy melodies while Side B simply swoons. Well, damned if I don’t think Gibbard is one of the most talented songwriters out there today, with an uncanny ear for said weepy melodies-- think Alan Sparhawk; to these ears, this compilation of sorts proves that he can pull it off with or without an ace rock band behind him.

The eleven songs featured here bring together two 1999 releases: a five song Barsuk CD EP (with instrumentation comprised mostly of electric guitar, dated Casio keys, and found drums, all played by Gibbard) and a chunk of an Elsinor Records cassette called The Envelope Sessions (which was recorded live, directly into a Walkman, accompanied only by a nearly broken toy guitar.) The constant shifts from relatively well-recorded tracks to static ridden snippets can be both jarring and irritating, but the gorgeous songwriting remains the same. Listening to this record is almost like getting your own personal impromptu performance, and rightfully so. No genre lends itself to such Spartan surroundings better than guitar pop.

“Plans Get Complex” opens the album with its “fullest” composition, which says a lot about what follows. Propelled by a waltz-y Casio beat and supplemented by bass and delightfully out-of-tune guitar, the song moves from a rather awkward, throaty verse to a stunning chorus. The theme of lovers growing apart is nothing new to Gibbard’s songwriting, but he never seems to run out of authentically poignant ways to convey it. Other selections from the Barsuk EP follow in the same vein, from the keyboard driven coy angst of “Untitled” to the maraca-tinged cover of Stephen Merritt’s “Why I Cry,” which not only illuminates Gibbard’s debt to the Magnetic Fields’ songwriter, but that of much of contemporary indie pop as well. “Send Packing” displays Gibbard’s penchant for slow-as-molasses brooders (a la DCFC’s “Sleep Spent” and “No Joy In Mudville,” among others) and is another shining example of how he can pull anything off as many times as he likes without ever sounding overly reverent of his own prior recordings.

As delightful as the EP tracks are, the super-intimate Envelope Session songs are the true highlights here. Deficient of amenities such as production and arrangements, the songs are forced to stand on their own. And while they obviously don’t pack the punch of, say, Alex Chilton’s “Holocaust” (which would thrive under such conditions,) they leave their mark as strikingly iridescent pop songs. “Cleveland” is the most affecting composition here, austerely aching with the stark loneliness that only these recordings could provide. “Empire State” and “Sock Hop” sound gloriously tossed off, which they most likely were-- at not much more than a minute each in length, they most likely couldn’t successfully be fleshed out in a full band arrangement, hence their inclusion here. If these are rejects, than there’s no other table in indie rock from which I’d rather beg for scraps.

Hideously inappropriate canine metaphors aside, this is a great souvenir of an album. Although it’s hardly essential for anyone but Death Cab fans, it’s easily recommendable for any discreet indie pop fan.