What's in a name? Maybe not as much as you'd think. Legendary Brit-rockers Procul Harum derived their group's moniker from the name of a friend's cat. Pearl Jam is an obscure slang term for semen. And, as I learn one August evening from Death Cab For Cutie leader Ben Gibbard, that band's name is likewise borrowed from a less than profound source.

"Our name is actually from a song by a '60s band called the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, which was featured in the Beatles' Magical Mystery Tour," he informs me in his easygoing, friendly voice, which sounds little like what one would expect after hearing his recordings.

Don't let Gibbard's unassuming demeanor or the peculiar origin of the band's name fool you; Death Cab For Cutie are a swiftly emerging indie pop dynamo, poised to implant their infectious, ethereal melodies deep within the recesses of your brain. Their sophomore release, We Have the Facts and We're Voting Yes, is a phenomenal collection of gorgeous, emotive pop masterpieces that stands tall aside the work of such Pacific Northwest Indie luminaries as Built to Spill and Elliott Smith. Energetic, lyrically innovative songs such as "For What Reason" and "Company Calls", as well as dynamic, expressive pieces like "No Joy In Mudville", have fueled Death Cab's steady ascent in popularity.

And Gibbard is popular indeed -- deservedly so. Over the course of our hour-long conversation, which runs the gamut from Hair Metal documentaries to Jack Kerouac, the Gibbard residence is inundated with calls -- which, after the fourth interruption, he (thankfully) begins ignoring.

Here's one verbatim exchange, in response to my asking what inspires him to write music: "Well, it's almost like I don't have any control over it. I'm not really a super-prolific songwriter. I don't write a lot of songs, but when I do, I usually either like it right out of the box -- just a second... [Very brief pause] Hey Allison, call Rebecca on your cell phone. I guess so far we have a decent amount of material, but I'd say I typically only write a song every month or month and a half. I've learned through the way I write not to push it. Things will come when they come and I'll know it, but I try not to feel like I have any control over it, which sounds kind of weird and hippie-ish, but hey."

Unfortunately (or not, depending on exactly how indie you are), none of Gibbard's calls are from cigar-chewing record execs looking to ante up a five figure advance for the rights to Death Cab's music. I ask him how much he and the group buy into the indie ethic -- i.e. not "selling out".

Since they're yet not raking in the dough from their album sales, the poor stiffs in Death Cab For Cutie have to hold down day jobs when they're not touring. Mike works in a record store. Guitarist Chris Walla in a recording studio. Ben and bassist Nick Harmer as warehouse monkeys for a Seattle non-profit organization called the Committee for Children, which sells non-violent curriculums and empathy training to elementary and junior high schools.

About this, Ben, who studied Environmental Chemistry in school and graduated in 1998, says, "Nick and I lived together for three of our five years of college and I would be in my room every day after class, busting my ass over calculus, physics and chemistry problems, while Nick would just be hanging around taking a nap or going to theater parties. And I'd say to myself 'At least I'll be able to make something out of all this.' And where do we both work? A fucking warehouse, doing exactly the same thing, for exactly the same amount of money. But they're great there and very supportive of our music and everything."

What is particularly nice about the warehouse job is that it is flexible enough to let them go out on tour whenever they desire, as they will this fall with Pedro the Lion, who are fronted by Gibbard's friend and all-around "rad guy" David Bazan. I ask Gibbard if he is at all fazed by the types of crowds Pedro the Lion -- known as "Christian" due to Bazan's occasional (and to some, taboo) references to the Almighty -- may bring to the shows.

"I'm cool with what David is doing, because it's very personal and expressive. His views are divergent from the Christian norm," he says. "Some people seem to think that if they go through the motions and don't ruffle any feathers, then they'll go straight to heaven. I can't subscribe to that sort of ideal and neither does David. But yeah, there'll be plenty of Christian Emo Kids there."

Emo. There's just no getting around it. I ask Gibbard what he thinks of emo's name being invoked almost as a curse word in some circles. "You know as well as I do that when the word 'emo' pops up, you think of some band that wants to be Sunny Day Real Estate really bad; a guy who can't write melodies talking about being lost inside," he replies. We laugh.

He continues, "Some bands accused of being emo have gone so far as to go onstage and say 'We're not emo! This isn't emo! This is music!' and they just come off as more pretentious. You don't get to say what kind of music you make; that's what fans and writers do."

"Funny," I say. "Because a lot of fans and writers have claimed that Death Cab sounds too much like a certain band: Built to Spill. How do you respond to that?"

Gibbard replies, "I've always been a big Built to Spill fan. I don't think that's any secret (no effort at a pun here on BTS's most recent album title here from either of us, I might add). So I don't mind when people use that as a touchstone. When it does get frustrating is when people use terms like 'This record sounds less like Built to Spill than their other stuff.' Still, I'd rather be compared to Built to Spill than Third Eye Blind."

At the mere mention of that deplorable band, I have to make certain that Gibbard has heard Stephen Jenkins' recent comments about being "as indie as Fugazi". He has.

I ask how Gibbard and the band react to being classified as pop music -- a generalization that's potentially more harmful than being compared to a specific band. He isn't indignant. "I think we're pretty much a pop band," he says. "It's all verses and chords. I write pop songs. We play pop songs. It's what we do best."

Ben Gibbard's musical influences are not pop at all, though. When I inquire about the bands that they collectively admire, he offers a laundry list of lo-fi notables: Bedhead, Red House Painters, Low, American Analog Set and Neutral Milk Hotel. We have to stop at Neutral Milk Hotel as we jointly fret over rumors that Jeff Mangum may not release any new material again.

As the sun looms low on the horizon, I draw the conversation to a close by probing into Death Cab's plans for the future. In addition to touring with Pedro the Lion, Death Cab will be offering a five-song EP through their label, Barsuk. The EP will contain two alternate versions of songs from We Have the Facts and We're Voting Yes, as well as three unreleased tracks. Gibbard and the band don't expect to head back into the studio to record a new LP until next summer at the earliest.

In the meantime, be wary of one ominous event when attending Death Cab shows: the rocking epic "Fake Frowns," from their debut record, not being played as the last song of the evening. According to Gibbard, this can have catastrophic repercussions.

"We had this rule for a long time that if we were going to play 'Fake Frowns', it would have to be the last song of the night. Every time we tried to play it not as the last song, something horrible would happen on the set: three guitar strings broke at the same time, Chris got really sick and had to leave the stage, the drummer's cymbal would break... weird stuff."

So feel free to buy the records and go to the shows -- but for God's sake, if you value your life, watch out for that. Otherwise they may be taking you away in a Death Cab. Shit. And I was doing so well at avoiding puns this whole damn time...