The Deep Dive. Looked Up, plus four in the Like
Young's indie power pop blueprint. Join us for
a deep dive into the 2002 indie rock EP Looked
Up, plus four by the Like Young. If you are curious
about how bands transition their sound and pack
massive energy into a short runtime, this is
for you. We explore how Amanda and Joseph Ziemba
evolved from their previous projects, Wolfie
and Busy Toby, to craft a raw, uninhibited power
pop sound for Kitteridge Records. Discover why
critics praise their monstrous riffs while debating
their tangential lyrics. Whether you're a longtime
fan of 2000s indie rock or just love discovering
hidden musical gems, this deep dive unpacks the
anatomy of a perfect, ear -friendly quick ride.
Keywords, The Like Young, Looked Up Plus 4, 2002
EP, Indie Rock, Power Pop, Kittredge Records,
Joe Ziemba, Amanda Ziemba, Wolfie, Busy Toby,
Pop Matters, exclaim. Welcome to the Deep Dive.
You know, back in 2002, Amanda and Joseph Ziemba
did something, well, something most artists are
absolutely terrified to do. They completely blew
up their established musical identity. Exactly.
They just started from scratch. And we're jumping
straight into the resulting fallout today. We're
unpacking a perfectly distilled slice of early
2000s indie rock history. The 2002 EP titled
Looked Up, plus four by the band The Like Young.
It's such a fascinating release to look back
on. It really is. And look. If you are fascinated
by how bands pivot, how they shed the weight
of their past to build a completely new sound,
you are going to love this. Yeah, the transition
is the best part. Right, and how they manage
to pack a massive wallop of energy into a plink
and you miss it runtime. Yeah. We are pulling
directly from the EP's historical footprint today.
And the critical record as well. Right, to understand
how this tiny 10 -minute collection of songs
managed to set a blueprint for an entire era
of their career. Which is a heavy lift for an
EP. It really is. Yeah. But for a listener who
loves gaining knowledge quickly, an EP and extended
play is the perfect musical equivalent. Oh, absolutely.
It's short, it's impactful, and it's absolutely
bursting with unedited ideas. What's fascinating
here is how a brief release like this serves
as the ultimate creative laboratory. We so often
look at massive full -length studio albums as
the defining milestones in a band's career, right?
Of course. That's the standard narrative. But
EPs are where the actual messy evolution happens.
happens behind the scenes it's the transitional
space yeah that's a great way to put it in this
deep dive we are going to explore how the like
young use this specific format to test their
boundaries we will be analyzing not just the
structural anatomy of this incredibly dense music
but the critical reception that surrounded it
because the critics definitely had some things
to say they were highly divided on certain elements
of this raw sound and looking at those debates
gives us a really clear window into the indie
rock landscape of the early 2000s. Okay, let's
unpack this. Yeah. Because to really understand
the noise on this record, we have to look closely
at the architects building it. The personnel.
Right. Like Young isn't some sprawling seven
-piece collective fighting for space on a mixing
board. It is a tightly knit duo. Just two people.
Just two. Yeah. You have Amanda Zima, who is
handling the drums and the vocals. And then you
have Joseph A. Zimba carrying a... genuinely
massive load here. Oh, yeah. He's doing a lot.
He's on bass. He's playing guitar. He's providing
vocals. And crucially, he stepped up to act as
the producer for the entire EP. That's the detail
that changes everything. Right. This is a completely
in -house, self -contained creative engine. They
aren't outsourcing their sound to anyone. And
that self -contained nature fundamentally shapes
what you are hearing. How so? Well, when an artist
takes on the production role, especially in a
transitionary phase like they were in, they are
creating a protective bubble around their ideas.
I see. There is no outside voice sitting in the
studio telling them to polish a rough edge or...
or slow down at tempo. It's pure, unfiltered
intent. Exactly. And if we connect this to the
bigger picture, we have to recognize their musical
ancestry. Right, because they didn't just appear
out of nowhere. No, Amanda and Joseph weren't
novices trying to figure out how to plug in a
guitar for the first time. They had a real pedigree.
They formerly played in the bands Wolfie and
Beezy Toby. Yeah. And leaving established projects
like that to start a brand new one is a massive
leap of faith. It's terrifying. You're walking
away from a built -in audience. It's a deliberate
untettering. When you walk away from a project
with an established fan base and a defined aesthetic,
you are essentially buying yourself a blank canvas.
They were no longer beholden to whatever sonic
expectations people had for Wolfie. Or for Busy
Poby. Right. The Like Young was their opportunity
to completely redefine their creative boundaries
on their own terms without any legacy baggage
weighing them down. And they painted that blank
canvas at a breakneck pace. They really did.
This EP was released in 2002 by Kittredge Records,
but the surrounding timeline is what makes it
so compelling. Let's look at the timeline because
it's intense. The Like Young had already released
another project that exact same year. Their initial
release, S .T. Monroe slash The Like Young. So
that's already one release in 2002. Right. And
almost immediately after Looked Up plus four
drops, they follow it up with their 2003 studio
album Art Contest. Wow. Think of this EP as a
bridge connecting two major landmasses in their
career. They are practically sprinting across
this bridge. Just figuring out their exact signature
sound in real time. Yeah, and doing it in front
of an audience. The momentum is staggering when
you look at that timeline. It is. Releasing an
initial project, a defining EP, and a full studio
album in essentially a two -year window, that
implies a very specific kind of creative fever.
Like they couldn't get the ideas out fast enough.
Exactly. They were actively iterating by keeping
the production entirely... in Joe's hands, they
ensured that the raw, immediate translation of
their new ideas made it to tape. Before they
had time to second guess themselves. Right. It's
a snapshot of a band in hyper evolution. Which
brings us to the actual anatomy of this project,
track by track. The quick ride. The very quick
ride. When we call this a quick ride, we mean
it. Brevity isn't just a feature of this EP,
it is their absolute superpower. Definitely.
The band wrote every single track themselves.
And the track list is a masterclass in getting
straight to the point without wasting a single
second. The track lengths are wild. Let me just
list these off for you. The longest track on
here barely scratches two and a half minutes.
Right. You have the title track looked up at
two minutes and 20 seconds. Which feels standard
for a punk adjacent song. Sure. But then, bad
excuse, shaves that down to a mere 1 minute and
54 seconds. Then you hit the track Freddy, which
is over in a blistering 1 minute and 23 seconds.
1 minute and 23 seconds. It's over before you
even realize it started. It's barely an intro
for some bands. I mean, that kind of runtime
requires an immense amount of discipline. It
really does. And then the final two tracks, Threshold
Person and You Can't Get It Back. both hover
right around that 2 minute and 20 second mark.
Yeah. And here's where it gets really interesting.
If you run the math on those five tracks, this
entire musical statement clocks in at roughly
10 and a half minutes total. 10 and a half minutes?
You are getting an entire era of a band's evolution.
And the time it takes to walk around the block.
And that incredibly dense runtime is the key
to why the EP succeeds. You think the brevity
is the secret ingredient. Absolutely. When you
look at the genres this release is categorized
under, indie rock and power pop, those track
lengths make perfect sense. How so? Let's break
that down. Well, power pop as a genre is entirely
built around delivering maximum melodic impact.
Right. Big hooks. It relies on the aggressive,
unpolished energy of rock and roll, but it marries
it to... the relentlessly catchy, hook -driven
structures of pop music. There is zero room for
a sprawling three -minute guitar solo in that
formula. No room at all. Or a moody, atmospheric
intro. It's an editorial ruthlessness. Editorial
ruthlessness is the perfect way to phrase it.
It respects your time. Yeah, that's true. For
a listener today, navigating the modern landscape
of bloated media and endless content, a 10 -minute
EP that refuses to waste a single second of your
attention feels incredibly refreshing. They get
in, they deliver the hook with maximum force,
and they get out. Exactly. It's the musical equivalent
of a double espresso shot. Yeah. Just pure, highly
concentrated energy. And the critics at the time
noticed. They certainly did. The critics operating
in the indie rock scene back in 2002 really took
notice of what the like young was trying to do.
What was the general consensus? The overarching
consensus was that looked up. plus four, served
as a fantastic, undeniable introduction to their
new identity. Critics broadly saw it as catchy,
well -written, and a incredibly solid opening
argument for their stripped -down sound. The
critical record from that specific era provides
us with some vital insight into how this transition
was actually received in the moment. Let's talk
about some of those specific reviews. Well, Cam
Lindsay, writing for Exclaim, was highly complimentary
of the project. Yeah, Lindsay had some great
things to say. Lindsay praised the tracks as
catchy, ear -friendly power pop, which validates
that pop sensibility we just discussed. But the
detail Lindsay highlighted that really anchors
the review is the mention of their monstrous
riffs. I can't get over that phrase. Monstrous
riffs. It's a great description. It creates such
a brilliant contrast in your mind. Because when
you think of a song that is only one minute and
23 seconds long, your brain naturally assumes
it must be something light. Right. Maybe a bit
flimsy. Or acoustic, yeah. But instead, they
are packing these massive, heavy, sludgy guitar
riffs into these tiny, bite -sized pop structures.
It's all about the friction. The friction between
the heavy instrumentation and the bright pop
melody is exactly what makes it work. It creates
a wildly dense sonic experience. You are being
hit with the sonic weight of a heavy metal track,
but the pacing and the melody of a Beatles single.
That's a great comparison. Dave Heaton, reviewing
the EP for Pop Matters, picked up on a similar
thread. Heaton's review is fascinating. He famously
described the album as a quick ride, but a fantastic
one. But his review actually gets at something
deeper regarding their transition. Right, about
their past work. Yes. He noted that fans of the
Zimbas' previous endeavors in Wolfie and Busy
Toby wouldn't be completely alienated. Even though
the sound was different. Right. He argued the
sound would actually feel familiar to those old
fans. He used this fantastic analogy to explain
that. He said the sound was familiar, but in
somewhat different musical clothes. Different
musical clothes. It paints such a vivid picture
of a band evolving without losing their soul.
The core DNA is still there. Exactly. The way
Amanda and Joseph structure a melody, the way
they harmonize their innate sense of rhythm,
that's all still perfectly intact. They just
went into the closet, threw out the old aesthetic,
and dressed those same songwriting instincts
in something much punchier. Heavier, more direct.
It's a crucial observation by Heaton because
it highlights that true artistic transitions
rarely erase the past entirely. They don't. They
recontextualize it. The different musical clothes
in this case happen to be the distilled, aggressive
textures of power pop. They weaponize... the
pop sensibilities they already possessed. But,
as with any piece of art that takes risks, it
wasn't universally flawless praise across the
board. Rarely is. Right. To really understand
the impact of the EP, we have to look at the
full spectrum of reception. And that includes
the friction. There's definitely some dissenting
nuance. Yeah. From Angelo De Iesso II, writing
for In Music We Trust. What was his take? Well,
he actually started with some very high praise.
He called the album raw and uninhibited. Which
is high praise for indie rock. Let's be honest.
If you were putting out a 10 minute indie rock
EP, raw and uninhibited is the ultimate compliment.
It practically was the gold standard for that
specific era of early 2000s indie rock. Definitely.
That label implies a distinct lack of overproduction,
a certain honesty and urgency in the vocal performance.
Right. It feels alive. It means Josie Emma's
production choices worked. He captured lightning
in a bottle rather than polishing the life out
of it. But here is where the critique comes in.
The dissenting nuance. Exactly. While he loved
that raw, frantic energy, he was critical of
the lyrical content. He specifically described
the lyrics as tangential. Tangential. Yeah. He
felt the words were wandering off topic or perhaps
lacking the sharp, focused narrative structure
that matched those incredibly tight musical arrangements.
Like the lyrics were trailing behind the music.
Essentially, yes. He felt the lyrics couldn't
keep up with the discipline of the music itself.
This raises an important question, and it's one
that sits at the very heart of the indie rock
genre. I agree. It's a fundamental debate. Can
a song be effectively raw and uninhibited if
its lyrics wander? Right. Or to view it from
a completely different angle for you as the listener,
does that tangential nature actually enhance
the raw, unpolished vibe of the record? That's
the real question. When you only have one minute
and 54 seconds to scream a thought into a microphone,
like on the track Bad Excuse. Do those lyrics
need to form a perfectly structured, linear narrative?
Probably not. Or is it actually more authentic
to just capture a fleeting, scattered, disorganized
human thought? That reframes the entire critique
for me. Right. When you are spilling your guts
over a massive, monstrous guitar riff, your thoughts
aren't going to be neatly organized into a thesis
statement. Mine was going to be messy. They're
going to be a little tangential. a little scattered
because anxiety and human emotion are inherently
tangential. Exactly. The wandering lyrics might
just be the most honest part of the record. We
want to impartially present both sides of this
critical coin because it's a debate that still
happens in music criticism today. At the time.
On one hand, the critique from In Music We Trust
suggests a missed opportunity. That tighter,
more deliberately focused lyrics might have elevated
these incredibly catchy songs into undeniable
anthems. Which is a fair point. Precision has
value. It does. On the other hand, a hyper -polished
lyric sheet might have completely destroyed the
raw and uninhibited charm that made the EP work
in the first place. The imperfections are the
point. Right. It is entirely up to you, as the
listener, to decide which element holds more
artistic weight, cohesive, linear storytelling,
or raw, unfiltered emotional delivery. So what
does this all mean? Looking at the big picture.
Yeah. When we look back at the entirety of Looked
Up Plus Four, we aren't just looking at ten and
a half minutes of aggressive power pop from 2002.
No, it's more than that. We are looking at a
potent, self -produced blueprint. This tiny EP
set the entire stage for the Like Young's subsequent
highly prolific run of studio albums. It was
the foundation. They took this raw, uninhibited
energy, figured out exactly how their new musical
clothes fit, and channeled that momentum straight
into their 2003 album art contest. And they didn't
stop there. Not at all. They followed that up
with So Serious in 2004 and Last Secrets in 2006.
This EP was the spark that proved their new concept
worked. It serves as a powerful reminder of the
deep value of experimentation and brevity. I
think we can all take something away from that.
Just like the Zimbas trying on new textures to
see what fit best, we all go through transitional
phases in our own lives, our careers, and our
creative pursuits. Sometimes the best way forward
isn't to lock yourself away and meticulously
plan a massive years -long master project. That
could be paralyzing. It really can. Sometimes
you just need to test out your new ideas in short,
rapid bursts. You put your work out there, keep
it raw and uninhibited, gather the feedback.
Even the critiques about being too tangential.
Exactly. Even the harsh feedback. And you use
that exact momentum to commit to your next big
leap. You don't always need to write the sprawling
epic novel on your first day. Sometimes you just
need to write five really aggressive two -minute
short stories to finally find your voice. Precisely.
And that leaves us with a final thought to mull
over as we wrap up our analysis of this era.
Let's hear it. When artists make the terrifying
choice to step away from their established pasts
and form something completely new, do they ever
truly leave their old sound behind? Or do they
just figure out how to distill... all of those
past experiences, all of that history into its
absolute most potent two -minute form. That is
a phenomenal question to leave you with. Think
about the projects, the roles, or the versions
of yourself you've moved on from and how they
still secretly power the foundation of what you
are doing right now. They're always there under
the surface. Always. Thank you so much for joining
us on this deep dive. We highly encourage you
to seek out the lightning fast tracks of Looked
Up Plus 4 for yourself. It won't take much of
your time. Take 10 and a half minutes out of
your day, turn the volume all the way up, and
enjoy the ride. We will see you next time.