Pitchfork

I tried to describe Big Dipper's music to a friend without resorting to using the rudimentary "indie rock" label. In different circumstances, I would've gladly leaned on the astute description that WFMU's Tom Scharpling offers in the liner notes to the 3xCD Supercluster. He paints the group as the end result of a sonic Venn-Diagram between the three groups (Dumptruck, the Embarrassment, and Volcano Suns) to whom Big Dipper's four members used to belong. Of course, if someone already knows at least two of those three groups, then it's a safe bet that they already know about Big Dipper, and the logistical gymnastics I was putting myself through were unnecessary. After careful deliberation-- I spent at least five whole minutes of the work day on this-- what I came up with is the sort of vague description that's exemplary of the stuff that inspires the sort of burn-the-witch rhetoric you'll find in any number of lazy newspapers and blogs looking to zing music reviewers-- "they sound kinda like early R.E.M., but nerdier and with more heft."

To translate into words that aren't as glib: I meant that Big Dipper shares early R.E.M.'s penchant for writing frisky pop tunes, but Big Dipper has a beefier bottom, and, well, they're nerdy. They write songs about hunting down the Loch Ness monster, they pen paeans to former bandmates and their destructive house parties, they make reference to UFO enthusiasts and astronomers. In even simpler terms: they sound a lot like what folks used to consider the sound of "indie rock" before the term became a meaningless catch-all banner for anything rock-like, unpolished, idiosyncratic, and potentially "difficult" for the average listener to dig.

In a lot of ways, Big Dipper's story follows the mythical story of indie rock (the culture) during those halcyon pre-grunge days. If VH1 ever decided to revive their "Behind the Music" series to focus on the Homestead/SST underground, the general plot line of every episode would go something like this: "As pedigreed underground darlings, with a small but loyal following within and outside the United States, [INSERT GROUP HERE] generated enough buzz to prick up the ears of the corporate music world. But with big money came big pressures, and the group's major label dalliance proved to be their undoing." Whether by choice or circumstance, Supercluster opts to not include Big Dipper's one and only Epic Records release, Slam, which is probably for the better-- it's not awful, but horns and strings make awkward appearances on a good portion of the album, and the less adorned songs are too listless to make up the lost ground.

What's left of Big Dipper's discography is what's on Supercluster-- their debut EP Boo-Boo, two full-lengths (Heavens and Craps), a collection of Homestead-era outtakes and demos, and 15 previously unreleased tracks from post-Slam recording sessions that would have comprised, in the words of guitarist Gary Waleik, "the make-good follow-up LP." The collection's first two discs show why long-time fans like Scharpling have kept the faith for so long. Whether they were bashing out slabs of rock such as "Younger Bums" and "Easter Eve", or winding their way through alternate-universe radio hits like "She's Fetching" or "All Going Out Together", the group's awkward yet winning charm never faltered.

While the polish of Craps seems to come at the expense of the friskiness evident on the Boo-Boo / Heavens tracks mentioned above, songs like the shimmering "Semjáse" and shame-free ballads like "Bonnie" show the group spreading its songwriting wings. As for Waleik's claim about the demos available on the collection's third disc (titled "Very Loud Array") doing right by fans turned off by their first Epic offering: He's not just pissing in the wind. If the group had the chance to record and release songs like "Restaurant Cloud", "Edith", and "Silentium" on Epic's dime, it might have had an album on par with its earlier work, something that found a happy middle ground between the group's herky-jerky quirks and its burgeoning musical maturity. Instead, as with most groups of their era, it was remaindered by the industry, forgotten by all but a few loyal fans, and almost always referenced in a respectful, reverent fashion.

There's a tendency with projects such as Supercluster to go overboard when trying to establish the excellence or greatness of the work being reissued, blowing all sorts of well-intentioned smoke up any available opening. Scharpling, to his credit, expertly plays the role of shameless hype-man in his essay, going so far as to call this multi-disc set a "crucial" compilation of "one of the best bands ever." You'll have to forgive me for not being as smitten with this otherwise enjoyable set of tunes. Where he sees a grand artistic statement trumpeting the group's neglected importance, I see a small piece of graffiti in the back room of a club saying "BIG DIPPER WAS HERE." The latter might not seem as big a deal as the former, but it's a part of history, and it's important for that reason. Whether this group becomes someone's Citizen Kane or a listener's American Pie should be left in the hands of the listener. What really matters is that the listeners are given a chance to find out for themselves.