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- Swept up in the current somewhere amidst all that mid-’90s indie rock glory was an unassuming band from the Pacific Northwest doing their due diligence in the leanest, scrappiest way possible. Lync didn’t have the clout, the muscle, the underground acclaim, or buzz that any of those other bands had, but it didn’t keep them from making one of the purest, rawest records of that high-water indie rock era. The best way to describe These Are Not Fall Colors is to say that it sounds exactly like everything the ’90s indie rock movement stood for. It was jarring, loose, loud, and explosively emotive. It wasn’t pretty, but it had a shitload of angst-ridden heart. It was the kind of music that lived in the van, music you took out on the road to small, scarcely attended hole-in-the-wall clubs only to return home with little more than a bundle of sweat-stained luggage. In other words, Lync were a band that lived out the purist indie rock ethos of the ’90s, and These Are Not Fall Colors was its noisy, cantankerous vessel.