"L.A. is full of smog and breast implants. That's it. Smog and implants." The phrases sounded so definitive, spoken so deliberately. I slouched in trepidation. Was that really it? Did The Treats' guitarist and vocalist Andy Isham intend his words to ring as they did, commencing and concluding our second annual interview in one fell swoop? Please let me not have stayed on campus all day to hear about poor air quality and surgical enhancement.

To my relief, the trio lent far more than the four seconds it took for Andy to complete the statement. To my pleasure, they lent far more entertaining insights. To my journalistic dismay, the conversation rarely became more explicitly connected with the band itself.

After returning home, after looking at my notes, I could not help but laugh. Why would I expend the strokes of the pen for drummer Don Isham's oh-so-poignant attempt at Shakespearean vernacular? Why would I write down the prophecy that Bono could stop the war? Damn.

Upon later reflection, I realized the citations were primarily of the random sort because they epitomize the classic Treats' conversation — one part obscure, one part inquisitive and one part abstract, with a small dash of self-reference.

That is the thing with The Treats. The boys can talk about anything — tangents about employment at McDonald's, impromptu James Lipton-esque performances, the freakiness of Axel Rose, the selling out of Vin Diesel, bassist Tim Payne's literary affinity for Harry Potter, the gender differentiation of producing comedy, Don's trouble with eating venison before sleeping, the questionable excellence of a band who writes songs such as "Making Love in a Twin Bed" — anything. It is amazing really. Give them a few hours, an equal number of pitchers and they can talk about anything, that is, except their own music. It takes a very conscious "I guess we should tell her about …" or an interruption to obtain even a vaguely true account of the L.A. story.

Anyone else would indulge the sighting of Kirsten Dunst outside the club they played. Anyone else would focus on the contacts made during the primarily industry-attended show rather than the current trends for business card materials. Anyone else would boast of their tune serving as the trailer for the nationally released film "Side Effects." Anyone else would expect applause for their ability to write a song within a week's time, which immaculately pairs up their sounds with the singing and dancing of the film's star Katherine Heigl. Thank God The Treats are not anyone else.

Flown out to California last month by director Kathleen Slattery-Moschkau, The Treats played a set — as they will do this Saturday in Madison, as they will do the following weekend in Milwaukee — to support the film's regional premier. Although making their own West Coast debut, the experience led to more commentary on the music culture than their entry into it. Aside from all the smog and breast implants pervading the scene, Andy noted, "a lot of bands go out there with a lot of attitude and no good songs. They try to make it big in their $2,000 a month rent apartments paid by their parents. They are just the most hideous f*cking role models."

Perhaps his disdain arises from the fierce DIY attitude encompassing all that is the philosophy of The Treats. Take, for example, the current project of building a recording studio in Tim's basement. With some of the most renowned recording studios right in town, why expend the time, the energy, the funds to transform the space? Because nothing would be a product of The Treats if they did not create it on their own terms, develop it with their own six hands.

With Tim doubling as recording engineer — possibly to his detriment, as he explained, "I can't listen to stuff anymore, I just analyze it. I'm always asking 'how do they make it sound that way?'" — the studio only seemed a logical progression in the tale of The Treats. Plus, having a real studio sure as hell beats the tenement conditions under which they recorded the debut album "Paint Your Blood."

Although the construction put the gentlemen on temporary hiatus from the local loop of clubs, the concept of the live show — which veered us into the more philosophical portion of the evening — was not often far from thought. Tim sympathized with those voting for the recorded versions. "Some people can't get into the live show. It is too raw." In a specific state of mind — according to rumor circulated by brother Andy — Don can find the genius in anything.

The notable performance according to Andy relies far less on energy from the body. Synchronized movements may require some stroke of talent, but they pale in comparison to the energies he expects from the sounds. "It takes a lot to be emotionally present in a live show. You can tell when someone is there, you can tell every time," he said. "Look at Oasis. Liam just stands there, but he's got it. He doesn't have to jump all over the stage. Those are the live shows where you watch and are not even aware you are saying, 'look at those f*ckers.'"

The Treats may have it, but they are no American Oasis. They are too unassuming, too unpretentious. They do the damndest thing, putting their energies into beats and basslines, lyrical innovation and inventive production. Yet few articles in regards to the trio fail to mention two undeniable and completely irrelevant truths: Don and Tim are of mythic height. And Andy is rock-star beautiful.

At risk of not being deemed a completely legitimate The Treats' piece, I feel obligated to follow suit. Here goes. Hands down, Andy would easily defeat even Julian Casablancas in a beauty contest. And if there were any disputes, either Tim or Don could pick Casablancas up and hide him in one of their shirt-pockets.

If that is not enough to keep you in town to see their set at the Slipper Club Saturday night, then you might as well give in, drive to Milwaukee and catch Ashlee Simpson's show at the Rave. I know, I know, I too am struggling with my loyalties. It really is quite a toss up.

Do I want to witness the phenomenon of one of our nation's most hideous f*cking role models or experience the phenomenon of one of our city's most fantastic f*cking rockers? Do I really want to hear live vocals? Do I really want emotional presence? I'm such an indecisive girl.

I do know one thing for certain. All that smog and plasticity — the uninviting superficiality found thousands of miles away — are a blessing for Madison music fans. When looking for something true, a sound that is real from a band without any pretenses, The Treats are a sure thing.

That's it.

Christine is a senior majoring in English and Psychology. Questions? Comments? Reach her at [email protected].