Superlative: Most likely to become class president with or without the aid of a running mate

Clubs: Spelling, Chess, Orchestra, Band, Choir, Drama, Debate, Spanish – wait, what other clubs are out there?

Quote: "You're not going to print that, are you?"

Like the board game, Scrabbel's story is full of surprises, twists, wins, and, well, a few losses.

In 2002 the indie rock duo of Dan Lee and Becky Barron, who had been friends in high school, seemed to be making headway with their music. They produced Scrabbel's self-titled 2002 debut on Los Angeles label Kittridge Records, played locally with bands like the Aislers Set, and toured the country hoping their style of atmospheric pop, infused with a Rilo Kiley-like vocal appeal, would catch on.

For the most part, Scrabbel hype was picking up speed until Lee hit a roadblock – his own bandmate. "Basically, she just stopped showing up," he says.

Barron never made it to a Scrabbel date at Edinburgh Castle Pub two years ago, so the panicked Lee asked his friend Stanley Lee to fill in, because, he explains, "I don't really like to play by myself that much."

Still, his bandmate's disappearance didn't seem to faze Lee or make him bitter. When I ask why Barron decided to leave Scrabbel, Lee shrugs his shoulders. He continued to play shows and began recording again with other musicians, and he thinks Barron might have wanted to spend more time with her boyfriend and his band, the Bright Lights. But, he adds, "to be honest with you, I couldn't tell you why because I was never told. I miss collaborating with her, though."

Sitting in Lee's living room surrounded by posters of indie bands he's friends with and feeling somewhat claustrophobic amid his musical equipment, a borrowed drum kit, and two gorgeous organs, I begin to develop a picture of Lee as someone who prefers to look on the brighter side of things and to recognize a misfortune as a gain.

For instance, when Lee had to leave his beloved Spinner.com job due to a repetitive stress injury, workers' compensation allowed him to concentrate on his music. He began to "noodle" on piano and drums, the instruments Barron once played.

As a result, Scrabbel's self-released second album, 1909, is a beautiful collection of '60s-inspired Britpop with a sweet sensibility entirely of Lee's creation. He sang, wrote, and recorded almost all the parts on an eight-track and enlisted friends to play the violin and cello.

The album flips between melodic guitar instrumentals with lo-fi drumbeats and barely there vocals and bursts of poppy organs and intricate guitar sequencing similar to that of Wilco. Lee also uses clarinet, xylophone, ukulele, techno beats, and samples gathered inside a BART station. From a lesser musician, the layers might feel cluttered, but Lee is technically savvy enough to make sure the instruments don't overpower each other and work together in painting – not surprisingly – a reflective picture of loss.

Onstage, as many as six friends perform Scrabbel's music, but when asked if they're permanent members, Lee can't offer a straight answer. Maybe he's hesitant about playing games with new bandmates. But for now, it seems to be working, and like any game, nothing's quite settled till the next round. (Stephanie Laemoa)

Scrabbel play Oct. 2, 9 p.m., Hotel Utah, 500 Fourth St., S.F. $5. (415) 546-6300.

For more information on Scrabbel, go to www.scrabbel.org.