Once upon a time, this crazy little brother band called The Moffatts released an album in an attempt to better hone their sound, get the heck away from those Hanson comparisons and prove their inner indy rock persuasions. They return after a short hiatus shorn and dirty-haired and with facial fuzz. They hire a heavy metal producer named Bob, but they still want to make pop music. Their logic: If we’re sticky gurgling candy sweet and he’s dirty gross snakes industrial, we’ll all meet in the middle and make a power pop album! Cheers. General ululation ensues.

The first single is smashing. OK, maybe not smashing, but not really bad at all. Kind of crunchy and springy and just pop-y enough and just dirty enough to qualify as art. Sorta. And we all liked it and thought, "Wow, if the Canadian government lets them cross the border after the health examination, we should go see them!" Because we kind of like The Moffatts. No, we really do. No religious fervor. No wanting to shag any of them. Yes, it is true that we bring signs to their shows that say Mmmoffatts just to torment them. But we do it in a loving way. You know, like when we call Isaac a dork. It doesn’t diminish the love any.

But anyway, they make this album, and it’s A-OK. It’s sort of pop-y like the single and kind of pseudo-Creed-Lenny Kravitz-grungy, which is sort of benign and worth listening to if you’re in the mood. They call it Power Pop. We turn our heads and laugh. Because we know better, but we’ll let them have their fantasy. And their hip, cred-earning metal produer. (You know, whatever "metal" means anymore. Kid Rock anyone?)

But, what? Hanson? What does any of this have to do with Hanson? Two different bands, after all. Just because they’re brothers, Laura…

Well yeah. Try this one on for size.

Hi, we’re Hanson and we just hired a hip, cred-earning metal producer named Bob to produce our "power pop" album. We have facial hair. We are shorn. We are decidedly dirty. The Canadian border patrol might not let us into Toronto either, mostly because Taylor is such a weirdo, but still. Oh, did we mention that Bob¾ our Bob, not theirs¾ is from Vancouver? Oh. He is.

But what’s the name, you ask? Ah, the name. Yes. So important.

Underneath. Oooh. Aaah. Implies depth.

Under. Beneath. Substrata. Subway. Submarine. Sub… modalties? (It will be duly noted that we here at BAB have no real idea what the word submodalties means. We know for a fact that the Word spell-checker hasn’t a clue, and we’d bet goodly amounts of cash that the Moffatts aren’t quite sure either. For now, our working definition of the word "submodalties," just to keep things less complicated, is "underneath.")

• Hanson and the Moffatts are engaging in a pop-music mega-merger behind our backs. Forget about the record companies, the media, the Internet. The next new trend in big-business restructuring is The Band Merger. Hanson and the Moffatts become one band, one lump of festering, insane teenage boy hormones. Bob starts playing the bass. Zac gets so frustrated that he just throws things against the walls all the time out of frustration: drumsticks, microphones, Clint. Dave gets so pissy and neglected that he quits and we all know what inevitably ensues between Scott and Taylor…
• By not knowing their own strange and inadvertent history, Hanson is now repeating it. Except it’s not their history. It’s the Moffatts history. You all knew that one day those infamous words would come back to haunt les freres Hanson. You know which words we’re talking about: "The Moffatts who?"
• Hanson and the Moffatts are in some warped, tacit rockstar fued where they try to see how many times they can rip each other off in a single decade without actually acknowledging that they're doing it. To themselves or to anyone else.
• The whole world has started smoking some quality, high grade crack. Oh, yes. Right. It all becomes a little clearer.

• Baby, they were going to write with Ben Freaking Folds. If that doesn’t bode well for a power pop album, I really truly do not know what does. (Insert moment of silence for Ben Folds Five and an equally meaningful pause for the comedic, musical, lyrical and fashion genius that is Benjamin Scott Folds. And he’s got cute babies too.)
• They have taste. (See above.)
• The words "We want to sound like Nirvana" have never once been uttered by pretty Hanson lips.
• "We want to sound like The Cars," has.
• With Taylor Hanson on board, there’s always a pretty, shimmering blue eye turned to the Gods of Cool, so never fear. All will turn out well. We thought This Time Around was going to sound like the Wallflowers, remember?