In the early 90s, new bands that would later help to define indie-rock were forming across the nation. Among other influential contributors was Chapel Hill’s own Superchunk. They released their first record in 1990 and followed it with seven other full-length albums, scads of EPs and still more singles.

Superchunk has all the markings of what would come to be known as an indie sound—jangling guitars, unpolished vocals, angst-ridden delivery, heartbreak, quick mood changes, and, maybe most importantly, a steadfast resolve to not give a damn.

Since starting their own label, Merge, in 1989, Superchunk began doing it themselves and refusing to give in to major record labels in favor of artistic control. What they produced were energetic guitar riffs, seething teenager-in-love lyricism (made by Mac McCaughan’s high tenor vocals), and a moody disposition, shifting from charismatic pop to melancholy rock. The group’s 2003 Cup of Sand, a compilation of B sides and castaways from earlier endeavors, is true to form.

Cup of Sand is a double album, often the bane of a reviewer’s existence. Doubles usually signal one of two things — either the band has decided to go concept and needs two discs worth of space to fill out their vision, or they’ve simply failed to be selective. A compilation is no exception. Superchunk B sides, derived from albums across their career, aren’t cohesive enough to be deemed a concept. This leaves but one possibility ...

Disc one is without a doubt the strongest. The catchy guitar hook and pop sound of the first track, “The Majestic” pulls listeners in and guides them through the discs other standouts: the fun “Her Royal Fisticuffs,” the solid bass/organ groove of “The Mine Has Been Returned To Its Original Owner,” the haunting riff in “Never Too Young To Smoke” and the albums best track “A Small Definition,” where McCaughan’s voice is at its most characteristic and the band is its most cohesive.

Disc two, however, is disappointing. Including covers of Adam Ant’s “Beat My Gest” and David Bowie’s “Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps),” along with more of Superchunk’s B sides, it becomes repetitive and tiresome.

Superchunk influenced many of the bands that came after them. A jangling guitar, wry, witty, sarcastic lyrics, and melancholy modes offset by up-tempo pop would become staples after Superchunk (think about predecessors like The Replacements and Husker Du, contemporaries like Pavement and Archers of Loaf, and followers like Cursive and The Get Up Kids), establishing them as influential and important.

But even important bands, in large, double-album doses, turn from cherries to cherry cough syrup.

Superchunk fans already have this record. Fans of the genre should get it. Potential fans might as well pick it up. Even if it gets a little old, it isn’t a letdown. When it seems like Superchunk have exhausted their potential, their mood swings and a different song spills from the speakers. Pleasant surprises fill these records, but follow the recommended dosage. Too much Superchunk, like too much Robitussin, might throw off your equilibrium.

(Zack Laminack is a student at WCU and an intern at The Smoky Mountain News. He can be reached at zslaminack@hotmail.com)