That recipe has worked, more or less, over the course of numerous homemade singles, cassettes and albums on various indie labels. Last year's Bubble and Scrape was Sebadoh's zenith, its blend of folk, punk and basement experimentation offering a vivid portrait of the trio with more accessible songs and confident playing. The more straight-ahead rock of Bakesale takes a step backward. Gaffney, an on-again/off-again member from the beginning, has officially left for a solo career, and his replacement, longtime pinch hitter Bob Fay, adds little to the group's sound; Fay's only contribution is the wispy "Temptation Tide" – interesting filler, but it doesn't belong on a Sebadoh album.

Bakesale is not without merit, though. Barlow's shredding "License to Confuse" kicks off the album with a wallop, offering an unintended apology for the currently disheveled Sebadoh: "I'm not attractive today/I'm not a sight for sore eyes." He also checks in with his quota of melody and introspection, exploring the awkwardness and intrigue of rebound dating in the gently seductive "Skull" ("I don't know who you are/ But I know what I would like you to be") and the hard-rocking "Rebound." Loewenstein's strongest material – the driving "Careful" and the hypnotic "Not Too Amused" – hang on intricate guitar-bass interplay and a steady groove.

Without Gaffney to provide the glue to keep Loewenstein and Barlow's songs from veering away from each other, Barlow is best left alone with his 4-track and meditations on losers, lovers and memories. His acoustic project Sentridoh, originally a collaboration with Gaffney, has become the songwriter's solo refuge. At a little more than 23 minutes, the 10-song Winning Losers is a fine collection marred only slightly by its nonproduction. But if you can take the occasional overpowering distortion, the emotional rewards are devastating. From the gripping Neil Youngish "Choke Chain" to the wry ballad "Only Losers" to the sad and clumsy "High School," there's not a bum track.

With bands like Pavement and Guided by Voices in the current critical spotlight, low-fi recording has become oppressively fashionable in the indie-rock camp. On Winning Losers, Barlow transcends the low-fi theory, while simultaneously giving it meaning with songs that would make a beeline to the soul in any context.