Somebody needed to write a song called "The Only Black Guy at the Indie-Rock Show", and I'm glad it was Sean Padilla. A brash introduction to a guy who's often "the only sign of melanin in one big sea of ivory", it's also clever, a little poignant, devoid of irony and endlessly quotable -- a call to arms for misfits everywhere as seen though the eyes of a young African-American who just happens to prefer Pavement over Jay-Z.

A recent graduate of Baylor University in Waco, Texas, Padilla has used The Cocker Spaniels pseudonym for nearly a decade, encapsulating a variety of band and solo projects. Save for a sax here and a cello there, he plays everything on this bulky, 21-song, 77-minute lo-fi extravaganza. It's obviously a lot to sit through all at once, and "The Only Black Guy..." proves a tough act to follow. Of course, the disc could have been shorn of a few songs, and the cheap production gets on your nerves after a while. The melodies aren't always as immediate as they should be, either.

But Padilla's on to something here. Years of listening to The Beatles, Prince and Guided By Voices have clearly had an effect on him, but at least he's trying to come up with his own sound, chock full of little surprises like twisted time signatures, power chords played in tandem with jazzier, softer rhythms, and unexpectedly tricky instrumental breaks. Given his limited resources and vocal range, it's often impressive. "Little League" describes a sweet sibling rivalry over a musical cross between Stevie Wonder and Steely Dan. "Little Africa" shimmies like a one-man indie-rock Beach Boys. "Freshman Girls" even lovingly roughs up a sighing, classic pop song template with aggressive bridges and knowing lyrics like, "I think the myth that college men / are more mature should be retired, / 'cause some of us grow up / and some of us just become better liars."

Preachy songs about telemarketers and soap operas fare less well; Padilla is more affecting when he sings about himself, astutely cataloging all of his life's mundane triumphs and failures. Notable ones include doomed but necessary long distance relationships ("Weekend Girl"), procrastination and stress ("Finals Week"), racial campus cliques ("Little Africa"), unrequited love and disillusionment ("Why Do I Bother"), Greek collegiate rituals ("Step Show Song") and that most common rite of passage for young adults, the dreaded minimum wage job. On "Fifteen Percent, Please!", he makes an impassioned case for the unappreciated underdog ("I really should be compensated in some form / for wearing this pink polyester uniform") over a lone kooky piano, like a teenage Ben Folds learning how to play.

Although not a flawless record (deliberately so -- look out for all the mistakes and studio-chatter segues), Withstand the Whatnot initially seems like an unwieldy beast, but it improves with each listen, and that's no small feat. Padilla fully deserves any indie-rock fan's attention.