Well, fuck. The Pomonas, one of the area's finest guitar-pop bands, is breaking up. The members are moving to different cities and probably taking their girlfriends with them (bastards). Somewhere, in a parallel universe, a kitten is being murdered and a prism is falling off the Great Chandelier of Unknown Brilliance and shattering on a cold marble floor. The band's debut full-length, When You're Electric, was one of 2006's best local albums — a rowdy, sweet opus chock-full of rad bass melodies, chopping guitar and innocent lyrics belted from the maws of the co-lead singers: guitarist Justin Ripley (Stephen Malkmus' lost younger brother) and bassist Andy Gassaway (Bob Denver's lost, uh ... grandson?). That record's follow-up, Good Cop, Good Cop, was recorded hastily over eight days, and the only problem with it — apart from the lo-fi flaws — is that it's very difficult to get past track three. And that's because those first three tracks are so goddamned good, they make you wanna go buy an amp, go to the top floor of the nearest dormitory and heave it out the window while you and your friends yell The Pomonas! The Pomonas! This weekend is your last chance to see the fucking band ever again. Fuck.