The patronizing way Sweret treated the band, and Arista's failure to live up to many of its initial promises, led Funland to do what few bands would even think of: they demanded to be released from their major-label contract. So in January 1994, Funland became free agents once more, leaving the songs on Sweetness in Arista's possession as part of their contract buyout. When the divorce was over, the band's members briefly, and privately, considered calling it quits and moving on individually. Yet in retrospect, they admit their crisis of confidence had less to do with the soured Arista deal than it did with personal matters that had slopped over into business.

"Over the past couple of years there's been numerous times when I've felt self-doubt and wondered, 'Are we any good?'" Schmidt admits. "'Do we deserve to be making music?' Even though Arista was a shitty label to be signed to, and in the back of our minds probably we were suspicious of that in the beginning, there was something validating -- which was wrong -- about having been signed. To some people who've chosen a career in music, getting signed is the Holy Grail, and [we had] achieved it, so there was a certain amount of validation there, and then it was taken away."

Vogeler nods, then adds, "There was a point after we'd gone through all that and we realized most bands would have broken up, and I think that encouraged us to keep on."

Keeping on, Funland found itself among the unwashed and unsigned again, back playing clubs in Dallas' Deep Ellum. They returned to Nashville to cut another set of songs, this time for a CD they planned to shop around to labels or, if worst came to worst, release themselves. Funland looked on as a number of bands they knew and had played with signed to major labels in quick succession: Hagfish, Brutal Juice, Deep Blue Something, Vibrolux, Tablet. They watched as peers Tripping Daisy ascended the charts, and waited as other peers the Toadies became a ubiquitous presence on MTV.And they had to wonder if they'd blown their One Big Chance.

Vogeler, though, says that "I don't think we've ever thought we had our shot. That's never crossed our mind."

Schmidt, however, does admit that "there were definitely nights after shows where we wondered if we really wanted to keep doing this," though he then adds, "I've never for one second been embarrassed that we were on a major and now we're putting out a local record. It more or less strikes me as weird there are bands that formed after us that are putting out major label records and we're just now putting out our first record ever, and it's on a local label. But it doesn't strike me as, 'That's not fair.' "

After failing to get any response from a label, Funland self-released the Misunderstanded cassette and sold it at shows, like any other young band. During the summer of last year, the group -- with a temporary bass player who'd later be replaced by other fill-ins -- signed a deal with Steve Records, an imprint of the Dallas-based Crystal Clear Sound. And a mere four and a half years after forming, Funland finally unveiled its first full-length CD, its true debut. Though it's on a small label -- albeit one that has its own very powerful distribution capabilities -- Schmidt and Vogeler insist they're actually quite pleased that it worked out this way.

"It took a little discipline for us, but I think it was the best thing for us to do right now," Vogeler says, "just coming down off high expectations for ourselves."

The Funland Band would be a remarkable CD on any label, major or minor: it's loud and funny, subtle and sweet, angry and desperate, knowing and resilient. It asks the unanswerable questions ("Where's my reward?" Schmidt wonders on the subtly powerful and poignant "Parallel Lines"), the metaphorical questions ("Have you seen my Impala?") and the rhetorical ones ("Will the Rangers ever win past July?"), with the answers coming in Schmidt's yells or Vogeler's rock-anthem guitar or Johnson's monstrous percussion. If it contains the echoes of '70s rock -- whether it's the guitar theatrics of Thin Lizzy or the harmonies of ELO or the melodies of Cheap Trick -- it also sounds very much like Funland. This is a band that knows the power of a good pop song.

"All the songs are definitely a product of what we've been through as a band and in our personal lives," Schmidt says.

"Being in this band is who we are," Vogeler adds. "It seems everything around me more and more somehow relates to how I'm in this band with Peter and Will. To give it up would be to take away something that's a part of me."