So you're sitting in a bar. Maybe it's a dive in the rust belt with sticky floors. Maybe it's a watering hole in the Bible belt with stock car fenders hanging from the walls. Or maybe it's one of those places where you need a belt to get in, where people come to "see and be seen." But for whatever reason, you're there, enjoying a beverage, be it a $10 martini or a $2 can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. All of a sudden, you hear music. It sounds familiar, but you know you've never heard it before. You investigate. Soon, you're in a room full of people watching a band, a scenario you're no stranger to. However, there's something different about this crowd. You can't seem to figure it out. The folks are from many different walks of life. Are they relatives? Friends? Surely not all of them. Some are wearing khakis. Some are wearing Stetsons. They are old and young...chic and geek...and they're all singing along. You decide to stick around for a just a little bit, maybe 10 minutes or so. An attractive fan makes their way to the bar for a drink. You realize that it's the perfect icebreaker when you ask: "Who's the band?" and they respond: "The Superficials." As you chat, you learn that the band is made up of songwriters from Nashville. They're somewhat new as a whole, but each of them have been performers for a while. As the conversation breaks from time to time, your attention reverts to the stage, and you notice how much fun the band seems to be having. Even the between-song banter is amusing, as they entertain the audience with anecdotes about everything from flat-sharing in London to hand-fasting in Seattle. You like their sound, but it's hard to categorize. You feel that almost any prefix put in front of "Rock" or "Country" would do...Folk, Alternative, Classic, Whatever. Eventually, the 10 minutes you planned to stay turns into an hour, and the group is doing their closer. You meet the guys while they're packing up. Sure, they look like musicians, but they also look like the sort of fellows you could just hang around and listen to old vinyl records with. After all is said and done, with your name scrawled on the mailing list and a CD in your hand, you ask yourself one last question: "Why haven't I heard of The Superficials until now?" You don't have a good answer, but it doesn't matter. You had a great time.