Like pavement and guided by Voices, two more widely heralded indie bands, the Grifters are low-fi explorers enchanted with pop but also in love with the cathartic possibilities of white noise. And so what? There are a billion bands out there who fit that description, disciples of the pre-Lollapalooza holy trinity of Sonic Youth, Hüsker Dü and Dinosaur Jr.

But after an awkward debut album and a more promising 1993 disc, One Sock Missing, the Grifters are clearly on to something with Crappin' You Negative. What distinguishes the Grifters – as well as Pavement and Guided by Voices, for that matter – is their adherence to something more than fashion, to a way of looking at their world that is peculiar to their specific part of the world. Regionalism, in other words.

For Pavement, it can be heard in the bemused irony they bring to songs about the record industry from their outsiders' perch in Stockton, Calif. For Guided by Voices, it's in the secret basement history of classic rock they forged in Dayton, Ohio. And for the Grifters, it's in dissonant guitar rock that bleeds blues and soul – traditions that have a long history in the band's native Memphis but that hold little attraction for many postmodern whiz kids. From the outsize, Howlin' Wolf-meets-Tony Joe White vocals of "Skin Man Palace" – "I am the mambo king, wrapped tight in my tarantula skin" – to the warped rockabilly grind of "Get Outta That Spaceship and Fight Like a Man," the Grifters gleefully pour gasoline on their roots and strike a match.

But the humor is earned; even "Skin Man Palace" sounds more creepy than playful. The lust in "Black Fuel Incinerator" bubbles over with bile, "Holmes" finds guitarist Scott Taylor yapping curses over a swarming pack of guitars, and on the Royal Trux-like junkie blues of "Rats," Dave Shouse nails the album's tone when he sings, "Some people pick up speed before they crumble to dust." Amid a black swamp of dissolution, pleas for a house, a lover, a moment that's "safe and warm" bob to the surface.

A band that used to record in a flower shop, the Grifters are adept at building cinematic settings out of junkyard scraps. "Arizona," a lovely mood piece that seems as wide and desolate as the desert, is built on a ridiculously simple Casio keyboard rhythm, guitar feedback and a wash of voices, at once soothing and haunting. In "Junkie Blood," cryptic longing gives way to something more palpable: the stench of death in a flophouse.

Noise pop is a great idea often reduced to a pose. Bands play at writing haphazardly catchy songs while wearing a what-me-worry smirk. The Grifters sometimes give the appearance of stumbling around in the dark on their way to a song, too. But beneath the shambling exterior is sturdier stuff that touches the soul.

Crappin' You Negative is available, from Shangri-La Records, 901-274-1916. (RS 701)

GREG KOT