If it were just for the sake of argument, it would be convenient to peg the Lemmings for being as docile and submissive as their rodent namesake. After all, the familiarity and comfort factor of the tunes that line "Follow" are a life lesson in pop chronicles. Merseybeat janglism, Cheap Trick's high energy, REM's organic musicianship and figurative imagery, as well as an acoustic/electric trade-betweens that roots itself in Toad The Wet Sprocket are an ingenuous combination of sounds. Yet, whether it's the anguished loneliness that surrounds the haunting "Desire" or the excitable pop zealotry that explodes during the striking choruses of "Alone" (the song I couldn't recall when I interviewed them, but now I can't shove out of my head), Lemmings succeed in that rare capacity to instantly connect with an audience. Small crowd, large crowd, underground, or over-the-top, this Tampa quartet conveys complex, abstruse emotions of compassion and spirituality with a just few chords that make sense. Like the perplexing dark figure that pervades the hard rockin' "She Runs" ("You can't fight what's never real") or the wise, reassuring narrator of the title track, the lyrics seem to burst with secluded meanings.