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Which is precisely what nostalgists like Hornby and Marsalis can't come to grips with -- time marches on. Musical eras fade, re-emerge to inspire someone else, then fade again. None of it ever disappears, because it's in virtually every song's DNA.

But with major labels and radio conglomerates trying to limit what we hear in the first place, doctrinaire nostalgia is a dangerous game to play. True innovation is rare enough -- whether one enjoys all of it, some of it, or none of it, is almost beside the point; experimentation should always be applauded as a vital part of artistic growth, for the musician and the music.

Nick Hornby may be particularly enamored of a certain era when he, I don't know, had more hair, smoked his first joint or lost his virginity, but that doesn't mean everything that's come since has been somehow inferior. Music is a living, breathing entity; the only thing that can kill it is stagnation.

"To say, "oh, yeah, it's the 60s, I'm doing this like they used to,' wouldn't be honest," Bagwell says. "Unfortunately, it can't be like that, and fortunately, in many respects, it isn't."

The Eastern Seaboard plays The Room Saturday, with The Sea of Cortez opening.