With the "Unplugged" fad long since faded and studio craft becoming increasingly valued by artists on either end of the scale of sophistication-- from hitmakers to sound scientists-- the acoustic guitar hasn't been given a lot of love lately. It's still a ubiquitous object in society and a universally embraced songwriting tool, but the fact is, it just doesn't make as many appearances on stage or screen as it used to.

For all their tendencies toward traditional songcraft, the Posies have been unexpected odd men out of the last crazy decade. Rubbing elbows with R.E.M. and Big Star has helped them earn a modest share of commercial success and cult worship, but the reception the music world has offered them has been stingily disproportionate to the amount of talent and effort they've put forth. So it's fitting that the Posies' latest incarnation is purely acoustic, a leap that few contemporary acts would dare to take. After all, who wants to give up all those cool distortion pedals and samplers?

In Case You Didn't Feel Like Plugging In is the latest in a surprisingly prolific posthumous re-examination of a band that hasn't written many new songs since 1994, and supposedly broke up in 1998. And since a lot of their recent releases have been somewhat redundant and inessential-- like the recent best-of collection and the overwhelmingly comprehensive four-disc box set due out soon-- it just might be the best among the glut. Here, founding singer/guitarists Ken Stringfellow and Jon Auer get down to business with the aid of a loving local audience.

In Case serves as a fine counterpart to the Posies' other live release, last year's electric Alive Before the Iceberg. It also makes for an unavoidable comparison between the two sides of the Posies. On Alive, they were still cranking the amps and attempting to reconcile the chasm between their power-pop roots and their Pacific Northwest rawk breeding. And, as proven by that documented moment, they fared pretty well, belting out admirable harmonies while amply fulfilling the distortion quota. But here, the songs are stripped bare and performed as they were written.

Appropriately enough, the strongest performances come with songs culled from 1989's Failure, the initially self-released debut album the duo recorded before growing into a full-on rock combo. When they flub the lyrics on "I May Hate You Sometimes," the old school fans show off a memory of the Posies' repertoire superior to even that of the band with an impromptu sing-along. Later, more aggressive material-- like "Please Return It" and an ineffectively slowed "Grant Hart"-- is presented less flatteringly without the benefit of a chugging rhythm section to propel it.

The record's song selection might not warrant as much criticism if the performance hadn't been mercilessly pared down to a mere 10 songs. Considering that the shows in support of In Case have easily pulled past the two-hour mark, covering nearly every song from the the Posies' sizable catalog of songs, the stingy treatment is plain inexcusable.

With no need for throaty delivery over raging amps, Auer and Stringfellow's voices sound more crystalline and perfectly matched than ever. Instead of just singing the same lyrics simultaneously and just hoping they come together, the two compliment each other with every melodic twist. The a cappella intro to "Suddenly Mary" transcends the polish of its studio counterpart by proving that, yes, they can really do that in person.

The magic of any great pop song is that it presents a series of pressure points, stringing together fleeting moments of ecstasy to resemble a narrative or train of thought. A catchy chorus or a clever lyric isn't as important as allowing all the ideas to shake hands and work together. The Posies' true skill is a consistent ability to do just that and sustain it for the entirety of each song, with those pressure points serving as the structure's foundation.

One of the prime examples of this comes with the minor hit, "Solar Sister." As I listen to the song's stunning solo as performed here, I detect a voice in the background screaming "Yes! Yes! Yes!" as Auer pulls the song off the ground and sends it into the stratosphere with gorgeously ascending triplets. But for the first time, it's an audience member-- another person screaming in absolute elation-- and not just a happy little voice in my head. Oh, good. So, it's not just me.

-Al Shipley