Eberhard sounds a little like Byrne, a bit like Edwyn Collins from Orange Juice. And his band plays with a fierce, grinding urgency that connects the dots between the Rolling Stones and the Pixies. Eberhard’s lyrics are composed from stray stuff, or at least the stray stuff of a 2010 California intellectual. Granted, the early rock pioneers never wrote about satyrs (“Pony People”) or Star Wars ephemera (“Dagoba System”), but really this isn’t too far divorced from Billy Lee Riley’s “little green men” in “Flying Saucers Rock and Roll,” both find wonder and meaning in the modern mythos of pop culture detritus.