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From Brendan Halpin.. The problem with writing about Falling August is the same problem they had as a band—they simply don’t fit into any of the ready-made categories.

The “Behind the Music” template really doesn’t fit here; as far as I know (and I know pretty far) nobody in the band did drugs, killed anybody, or was incarcerated, and while everybody but Charlie broke up with whomever they were dating at the time, none of the breakups involved calls to the police, destruction of personal property, or suicide attempts, so the whole “tragic fall" act doesn't play.

The “Tragically Underappreciated” template also doesn’t work. Yes, this band made some great music, and yes, they never garnered a fan base that was as large as they deserved, but, on the other hand, everybody in the band had a life beyond the band, and had they been willing to chuck it all and live out of a disgusting van while touring the U.S. for a couple of years, who knows?

The “Exemplar of a Scene” template also fails here. Falling August was too rock and roll for the local (and, may I add, insufferable) acoustic folk scene, and a little too acoustic/folky for the local alternative rock scene, where everyone was busy trying to be the next Nirvana (at first) and Teenage Fanclub, and occasionally Nine Inch Nails.

So what the hell was Falling August anyway? Well, at first it was three guys playing acoustic guitars and singing songs about the intafada to adoring young Jewish women at a coffee shop at Brandeis University. I caught this incarnation once, and...let’s just say it wasn’t my thing. I liked the harmonies, though.

And then, when I returned to Boston to live in early 1991, Daniel played me a demo tape of “King of the Western World.”

“Hey,” I said, thrilled not to have to lie out of politeness, “This is really good!” It was. It still is.

In the years that followed, I saw Falling August perform at a number of disgusting and now dearly departed Boston night spots: The Channel, The Rat, and, of course, Somerville's own Club 3.

And I saw them develop from a folk trio who were nearly apologetic for commanding the stage into a real rock and roll band complete with confident showmanship and kickass guitar solos. (Really—I especially liked the one in “The Farthest Shore.”)

There were the usual struggles, of course—the washed up drummer from a famous band who was going to get them signed to Sire but really just wanted young musicians around him thinking he was a big deal; the gig at Wellesley College that some genius (sadly, I believe said genius was actually in the band) booked during finals week and which was therefore deserted save for me, my late wife Kirsten, my friend Suzy, and Daniel’s mom and dad; and the usual semi-deserted late weeknight gigs that any band has to play.

But there were triumphs as well—not getting murdered by a room full of grumpy, impatient Melissa Ferrick fans; building enough of a following that clubs would book them for weekend gigs; and growing into accomplished songwriters and performers.

“Your songs are better than most of the crap on the radio,” I'd tell them, and, again, I was actually being honest. Later, after Falling August broke up and Counting Crows’ “Einstein on the Beach” hit the airwaves, it actually sounded like the crap on the radio was second-rate Falling August.

Of course, Falling August songs still sound better than most of the crap on the radio. The cool thing is that because Falling August didn't sound especially “Boston” or “Early 90’s” in Boston in the early 90's, they don't sound dated today.

If you were one of those starry-eyed Brandeis students, or if you were one of those people who showed up on Friday nights at T.T. The Bears, or if you just like great melodic rock and roll songs with cool harmonies and the occasional kickass guitar solo, download these songs, and enjoy.