The first time The Stranger covered the Posies was in May of 1993, when the writer Daniel Housman lamented that it was "easy to be confused by the Posies, especially in the last two years as they've searched for their own identities." He could never have guessed how persistent that search would prove to be. After countless lineups, breakups, recriminations, and reconfigurations, Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow have found a way to make their musical partnership endure for coming up on three decades. Which is more than you can say for most musical partnerships.

Another thing you can't say about most rock bands approaching their 30th year: Their new record is excellent. Solid States is absolutely vital and contemporary—the band's most engaged and engaging work since their DGC days, and in some ways a return to the Bellingham bedroom duo sensibilities of their 1988 debut, Failure.

On the eve of the Posies' (now a trio) return to Seattle for a show on Wednesday, November 16, at the Neptune, Stringfellow answered a few questions via e-mail from a studio in Amsterdam, where he's producing a record for a Dutch band called Reveller.

You've been very prolific as a musician, producer, and recording artist apart from the Posies. I've always been struck by the way you discuss all your projects with a sense that they're equally important to you, both professionally and personally. Is there a part of you that still considers the Posies to be further up in the hierarchy of work that you do?

Firstly, yes, I have total commitment to every project I'm involved in. I'm not picky about what I'm involved in, I just endeavor to bring everything I do up to a certain level of greatness—every artist I produce deserves that. If people want to work with me, I am going to do my best to deliver that to them. I never, ever, phone anything in.

I'm certainly guilty of trying to surpass the band in certain respects... I believe I came out of the Posies initial split in 1998 with a fair amount of resentment about how things went down. I didn't have much sympathy for whatever difficulties Jon may have been facing personally at the time. I also was very insecure, and had a lot to prove, thinking it would diminish the chip on my shoulder. I was going to do the most, travel the furthest, be everywhere at once. It kind of worked, actually—I accomplished a lot, and that drive got me to learn a lot and into some amazing situations. Now, years later, I understand more about what the band means to me, to people. Probably nothing I will ever do will bring more happiness or satisfaction to more people than this band. I realize that a partner like Jon is a once in a lifetime connection and that it's a perfect fit even with the imperfections. If that makes any sense.

I think that sense of wanting to do something to surpass the band is a common yearning among musicians, but it's interesting in the context of the Posies because, especially around the time of Amazing Disgrace, you guys were both addressing your conflicts pretty openly in songs.

Hmm, I think in the vintage Posies days, those songs directed at Jon were definitely... well, I was at my wit's end. Someone who had been my best friend was just... unavailable. And it happened that it was deeply affecting our band, which was our, you know, our life's work, our business, our brand—however you want to view it. I think the songs reflect my helplessness. "You're so far gone, a distant planet is picking up your good-byes on TV." It's not very aggressive, really. It's more broken.

But those days are gone, and my working relationship with Jon is founded on good communication. So those kinds of messages are not necessary. If we want to say something to each other, we just talk (or e-mail if it's delicate).

I read the new album partially as a refinement on your earliest recordings—which is only to say that even though it has lots of dynamic modes, it's the least rock-band-driven Posies record since Failure.

The record now is a deliberate left turn from the "four guys in a room" way of making records. It's not just a geographical imperative that we have to live with. I have never been a purist about... anything, really, and the records that appeal to me the most are those records that are hard to pin down. Is it a band, or is it a bunch of curious sounds happening at roughly the same time. Is it manipulated? Truthful? I mean, this is a direct reflection of the world we live in—can we deduce anything from the information/images we're presented?

I do think this record has been made with the least amount of outside help—only Jon, myself, and Frankie [Siragusa] engineered it (mixing is another story). And I think thusly that it's oddly our most truthful record. Going into the studio has usually been about serendipity, about spur-of-the-moment tangents that give the record its personality. But you could also label those things as distractions—becoming so enamored with a moment that you let it overshadow the song you're working on (it's not about the song, it's about the "perfect take"). With this album, there are no "takes." There are just the songs, being built layer by layer, lovingly, but precisely.

And then Darius [Minwalla, Posies drummer] died.

We were already on this path, but that closed the door, in my mind, to the "record reflects the live band" aspect of making albums. Darius was wonderful to work with in the studio—he always generated these spontaneous moments and was well known for having these great, unbeatable first takes. We kind of left him undefeated in that category out of respect. Retired the jersey.

That shut down progress on the record for two to three months. When we emerged, we had some new songs that were part of our coping process, expressions of grief, of bewilderment.

And then we realized we were going to have to play this all live...

Frankie is really the only person I considered. I was hoping our show would be something like... the presets. I know Frankie as this great all around musician/engineer who can perform these very mathematical drum parts. I was kind of surprised that when we got to touring he was as wild as he is, and yet playing to a click the whole time. Those first rehearsals we did this March were such a relief. Working in a new member—with the obvious crater of loss that we were in (and then [former Posies bassist] Joe Skyward died that same week)—with these new synths and laptop and tracks, etc. and a dozen new songs—it so wasn't going to work on paper. And Frankie wrangled the computer aspect of it, without breaking a sweat. And then took it up several levels. He didn't perform in a mathy, robotic way. He put a more swagger-laden vibe into the drums. It made total sense. He glued this new material to our vintage catalog perfectly.

Next dilemma—what were people who've been coming to see us for 25-plus years going to make of all this? That first gig in Belgium, where we'd done a drummer-less, laptop-based test run of the new material last year that, well, patently flopped—people were absolutely accepting of him, and us. It was, again, a massive relief. And I'll tell you: Frankie has been this magic ingredient that has probably done more to repair Jon and my relationship than we had done. He's very positive. Basically, we all feel like a united front; the band is too small now to subdivide into factions. On this tour, especially the US tour where we were setting up our own PA and backline and driving and selling merch and so on and so on—we have never worked so hard. And yet, it was by far the most satisfying tour we've done, ever. We grew this from scratch and watched it grow and prosper.

Given that neither you nor Jon are Seattle-dwellers anymore, what does it mean to you to come and play Seattle? In a way, there's no argument that the Posies could ever not be a Seattle band, but in another way, you sort of aren't one. Or maybe that's not even a meaningful distinction anymore?

I think we are one. A sense of place is community as much as it is... uh, your favorite buildings. Seattle is still where my friends live. I could go to a bar or club and still pretend I never left town, in some ways. I would argue that Seattle has changed more than we have—and yet I still recognize it. If I turn over a few condos, I can still find the Seattle I knew squished under there somehow. I come back often, to keep those connections going. I might be delusional. It's way more bizarre to say, "We're a band from France," though. I will say that 23 years of global touring has made us "belong" to a lot of places. We are beloved in Spain, in Finland... We are a lot of things. This is the fractured era. We are all shards, reflecting in a million directions.