For their debut, Japandroids hit the ground running on Post-Nothing, a warm flurry of fuzzy guitar, disjointed crashing drums, and childlike vocals yelled in unison by guitarist Brian King and drummer David Prowse. Several seasons before the album was released, "Young Hearts Spark Fire" hit the blogosphere and earned the band enough praise to secure a spot on Polyvinyl. The buzz continued with quite a few comparisons to fellow lo-fi/ noise rockers No Age and Wavves, two of the hottest forerunners on the art-punk scene. (Japanther is probably a closer comparison, due to their similar super-sized two-man sound and singing style, but then again, Japandroids aren't an easy band to pin down.) The lo-fi/noise rock tag is such a wide ranging term that it's a pretty loose fit. Think of it as a triple XL that the malnourished (metaphorically speaking) musicians can only wear if they wrap up in layers and layers of distortion. Behind the '90s shoegaze overdrive, and underneath all the punk rock thrashing, Japandroids' songs are absolute pop, in the truest sense. They're innocent, they're simple, and they're filled with blindingly good hooks. It's all thrown together with a superb sense of knowing what works. With all the fat trimmed, of the eight songs there isn't a bad track, making it difficult to choose a favorite, be it the sing-alongitude of "Wet Hair" and "Young Hearts Spark Fire," the nod to Thin Lizzy with "The Boys Are Leaving Town," the fantastic bashing of "Heart Sweats," or the heartfelt sincerity of "Crazy/ Forever." The lyrics aren't exactly thoughtful. Mainly, they're about girls and drinking, but they're delivered with such passion that they seem truly earnest, even when the line involves French-kissing French girls on Bikini Island. Just before the spring fever wears off and "Sovereignity" dissipates into the teeth-rattling power ballad closer, "I Quit Girls," the boys shine brightest as they shout, "It's raining in Vancouver/ but I don't give a fuck, because I'm alone with you tonight." It pretty much sums up the Japandroids code. They act apathetic, but they're totally sentimental. Likewise, they play sloppily, but they're musically proficient.

As befits a mixed-race, -gender, and -generation band, this Seattle quintet never settles for the status quo. Bluesy single-note guitar lines compete with jagged chording, the bass thumps out counter-melodies, strained yelping dissolves into pastoral harmony. Yet it all coheres thanks to frontman Benjamin Verdoes' pop instincts and the band's jittery energy. For now, the music is ahead of the ho-hum lovelorn lyrics, and some tracks are fussy rather than fiery, but check the scattershot seven-minute closer, "On the Collar," to hear how Mt. St. Helens explodes expectations.

Is this shit sold out? I went to ticketweb to grab a ticket and had no luck.