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Mess is really, really good at what Mess does. As someone studiously pointed out somewhere in the dark corners of the World Wide Internet, it would be hard to think these guys don’t own a bunch of records dated sometime between 1990 and 1994. The sound that so many kids in so many flannel shirts grew to love is so distinct, so obvious when it’s done well, and, again, without question, Mess does it well.

So, what’s the sound? You know it when you hear it. Sadly pretty guitars that distort on a dime. Driving pop rhythms punctuated by mild twists and angsty undercurrents. A pleasant singing voice able to burst from Bruce Banner to the Incredible Hulk whenever a song’s evolution calls for it. Production that finds the sweet spot between lo- and hi-fi without committing to either. Think anything that was cool enough to dominate college radio in the early ‘90s and yet never break through into “120 Minutes” territory — and was all the cooler for it.

Mess is all those things and more. And on “Tree,” the band’s seven-song debut EP, each element of that formula is presented with enough confidence to significantly further an already-prevalent aptitude for this specific blend of rock. In short, it will make you tap your feet as you lace up that pair of high-top Chuck Taylors you’ve been meaning to dust off ever since Superdrag broke up.

To back all that up, just listen to how the set begins. “Lean,” the shortest track here, busts through the door to settle into a slow mid-tempo anchored by Evan Braswell’s melodic guitar work. The true victory, however, is when things go from loud to soft, the verses bleeding that familiar alt-rock vibe that made a band like Nada Surf so Popular. Throw in Erik Wagner’s longing voice — one you swear you heard before — and it’s like stepping into a time machine.

Speaking of time, the 6/8 signature of “Mr. Crowley Flung Among The Crowded Rooms” sways wonderfully, introducing itself with a combination of Mike Barth’s drums, a crisp guitar and Wagner’s signature vocal stylings. Not only is it the best song here, but it’s also the most compact. Sure, it lends itself to as much because of its waltz-infused textures, but not once does the song feel like it drags. And once the bridge hits and Barth has room to spread out with his hi-hat work, look out, because a joyride awaits.

Yet what makes “Crowley” so much fun is also what lacks in moments elsewhere throughout the record: editing. These are the types of songs that were made to be in and out in four minutes or less. “We Are All Returning” meanders just a little too much for its own good. The slow groove, in this case, doesn’t help, either. What is intriguing about the song, however, is the way Wagner approaches his lines. When he offers “Today is the last day/Of the rest of your days/To be spent/So present” to begin the track, he’s a dead ringer for Middle Kid’s Zack Willis, all the way up to the subliminal quiver in his enunciation. It’s enough to make anyone smile through the tears.

The other longer songs aren’t as bothersome. “Blossom” succeeds not only because of its accents, but also the creative drum work that fills the instrumental gaps between words. The mid-track break in action also serves as a stark signifier of the group’s versatility. Meanwhile, EP-closer “Everywhere Is Falling Everywhere” earns its five-and-a-half minutes with its opening aggression. With more than a minute of music to open it, Wagner eventually sells the hook with aplomb, asserting, “Why wait for something that will always come? F— it, let’s have the most fun.”

Wise words for a band called Mess. And in truth, having fun is what makes “Tree” so appealing — everything from the music to the lyrics feels sincere, and it probably goes without saying that you’re always your most honest when you’re having the most fun. Sure, that might not mean everything is particularly happy, but it’s better to be miserable with your friends than it is to be miserable without them.

“Let the song be the song we sang,” Wagner croons on the melancholy “Another Song About The Grave” before eventually concluding the track with a memorable revelation: “We can cry about it and we can laugh about it.”

A beautiful Mess, indeed.

** 2 1/2 STARS OUT OF 4 **

Growth is what comes to mind while listening to Karen Jonas’s “Butter.” It’s been nearly five years since she burst through the saloon doors, guns drawn, with her masterpiece, “Oklahoma Lottery.” It wasn’t long after that when the decidedly more tame “Country Songs” was unleashed, led by a title track as clever as it was desperate.

And now there’s “Butter,” a more accessible set than her previous efforts that leans more toward straight-ahead pop than both her other records combined. Continuously paired with her machete-like wit, the stories here are as good as ever while the music tones down the type of aggression you heard so cuttingly throughout Jonas’s earlier work. It combines for a fulfilling listen, even if you do occasionally wish she would opt to cook with more, say, bitter than she does butter.

But that’s what makes this such a curious collection — while she pulls back on past predilections, she opens up rooms to which no one probably even knew she had a key. “Mr. Wonka” is circus-like (which, perhaps unsurprisingly, might be why it’s followed by the album-finale called … well … “The Circus”), its waltz echoing visions of the track’s namesake, horn section and all. It’s a fun exercise that’s about as far away from Country Songs as Jay-Z is to the Florida Georgia Line.

The other departure comes in the form of the title track, which transports you right from the rodeo to a 1950s nightclub somewhere in Manhattan. It’s jazzy and smokey and everything that used to make pop music so great. Providing more fun is the singer’s ability to turn phrasing as brilliantly as she does. There isn’t another artist within 500 miles that can take “Mama cooks with butter” and turn it into “Mama drinks straight whiskey” so effortlessly.

And yet still, these are the novelties. When Jonas returns to the flavors we’re used to tasting, it’s hard to forget there’s nary a better chef around. “My Sweet Arsonist” has deliciously western leanings, pedal steel and all, and it showcases the singer’s tender side, her voice downsizing to something just above a whisper every now and then. Naturally, that dynamism makes her regret feel just a little more palpable than it has before as she confesses, “I could build a lifetime from the things I’ve given up.”

One thing she hasn’t given up is her world-weary eye, and that’s as prevalent as ever on “Mama’s First Rodeo,” another retrofitted country swing dance that reestablishes Jonas as someone who knows more about a thing or two than you probably know about a thing or two. One of her many secret weapons has always been her ability to curse effectively, and this song is no exception as the chorus takes hold (one listen, and you’ll see what that means). And with a groove that subliminally walks the line between Nashville and Jamaica, it’s perhaps the most interesting song here.

As for the best song, that title could go to “Dance With Me,” a mini epic that allows the singer to leave a lasting vocal impression once the song gets its feet under it. Sure, it seems simple at first — a traditional slow burn of a tune with structure that’s as straightforward as it gets — but while the organ rises and she dares you dance through it all, your heart both breaks and lights up in a flurry of flames, inspired by the demand, hopeful for the perseverance.

Thankfully, perseverance is an idiom about which Karen Jonas knows a thing or six. This being solo album No. 3, it’s hard to blame her for adding new ingredients to recipes already deserving of Michelin stars. Such is why, in this case, adding a little “Butter” to the formula doesn’t just make the meal a little more versatile; it signifies how essential it is to keep filling the pantry with the type of things you once never knew existed.

Or in short, regardless of if it’s a guitar or a frying pan in your hand, growth is imperative for artistry. These 10 songs affirm that at this point, Karen Jonas is cooking with gas.

*** 3 STARS OUT OF 4 ***

The thing about live music is just that: It’s live. The performance itself carries almost as much weight as the energy from the audience. You play. People (hopefully) respond. That response fuels the playing. The playing, in turn, fuels the response. It’s a cosmic type of vigor impossible to accurately depict with mere words.

Compromising that equation, of course, is the studio. You might be a great live band, but when you step into the booth to solidify your work, things change. The cosmos can’t be reproduced and you have to adjust. A missed hit here, a wrong note there is fine in front of a crowd. In the studio, though? That can be the difference between a good record and a great record.

By all accounts, Ginada Piñata is a very good live act. Falling into the jam band crowd, they actually deserve a more thoughtful descriptor. There’s some Steely Dan in them, a dash of select Frank Zappa instrumentals, some Billy Cobham textures, adult-contemporary R&B leanings and interesting guitar work that doesn’t not sound like it could be heard on the Weather Channel. See them live, and it’s a blast. Dancing is imperative. Musicians’ mouths water. Crowds go home happy.

But how does that translate into a studio LP? Well, in the case of their most recent self-titled album, the results are mixed. Yes, there are compelling turns that occur consistently throughout each of these eight songs, and sure, there’s no doubt it takes some seriously imaginative musical minds to craft a lot of what is heard here. But when you listen to a band like this, you want everything from the production to the performance to be crispier than a Don Draper suit. And while these songs get there sometimes … well, sometimes, they don’t.

Take “Open Road,” which showcases a bunch of great ideas. One of those great ideas is a time-signature manipulation that accents with regularity as the song progresses. It’s a neat trick — and it certainly suggests that these guys go the extra mile to put thought into the details of their work — but more often than not, the moments lack the confidence and consistency needed to sell the quirk. Sometimes they line up, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes, the timbre stands tall; sometimes, it has weak knees. It’s frustrating because you can hear how great it could be with only a tiny bit more focus.

“Lancey” lives in the same creative area, a flurry of off-time pauses highlighting the track’s hook. When things do commence into structure, an awesomely funky guitar line takes hold and it’s clear that the riff was designed to stay in heads for days. An argument could be made, then, that the repeated returns to the awkward stabs make the song lose momentum, but instead, they grant the composition a layer of intrigue that should make fellow players grin each time they hear it.

Another smile-maker? Ken Bussey’s guitar playing. Album-ender “Joe” is a near perfect way to go out because of the spotlight that focuses intently on Bussey. Providing requisite instrumental runs and musical turns, the track also allows the guitar player to explore his bluesier influences, resulting in a series of solos (Sam Jannotta’s keys included) that reaches the amount of silk Ginada Piñata deserves in order to be so riveting at times. It’s a bittersweet goodbye.

Not as bittersweet, however, are the moments that groove takes precedence over everything surrounding it. “Spittin Lou” swings with a lazy funk that evokes visions of someone walking down a busy city street on a warm rainy day. It’s a fantastic way to begin the album. And “A1E” should make fellow area jammers SoulXChange smile. Laid back in feel, the song has a darkness to it that’s as sexy as it is smokey. Throw in some retrofitted “Superstition”-ish keys and it’s more than just the sci-fi sound effects that blasts the tune out of this world.

Still, it’s hard not to want more. For as inventive as Ginada Piñata, the band, can be, “Ginada Piñata,” the album, feels like a good introduction — and not a great representation of all these guys could achieve. Without question, there are moments throughout that force heads to turn and ears to open, but when you’re dealing with a group this promising, the standards are higher and the expectations more demanding.

That’s not to say this quartet isn’t still a very good live act. And it’s not even to say that they couldn’t be a very good studio collective. It’s just to say that hopefully next time, they pay more attention to that dastardly devil constantly lurking in the details.

** 2 1/2 STARS OUT OF 4 **