Lync was a three-piece punk/emo/indie/what have you band that formed in the early 1990's in Issaquah, WA. With all the Sunny Day Real Estates, Elliott Smiths, and Nirvanas of the Northwest U.S. indie scene (they were all technically indie around that time), Lync were overlooked and ignored by most, and still are.
However, Lync are also one of the most important indie bands to ever come out of that state - name one WA band that doesn't list Lync as one of their favorite or most (sonically) influential, and you'll find out they're probably really from Wyoming. Lync captured the feelings
of terminal autumn and realness and growing up, mixed into a loud, distorted mess of sloppy but innocent melody and hoarse-but-childlike voiced singing/screaming.
They had more in common with bands like Beat Happening and Built to Spill than they did with the emo or sellout bands of the area - BH and BTS also have that way of making everything sound new and honest, especially lyrically, like the excitement of someone learning how to play an instrument - pouring their heart into it, hearing only their own potential and beauty shine through, no matter how it really sounds or what people think of it. Lync was like the annoying little cousin of those two, taking that innocence and hiding it in some anger and a little schizophrenia. They could sound like the aural equivalent of a drunken brawl, but you could still hear that they were having fun and smiling underneath the noise and feedback.
Lync broke up in 1994. Sam Jayne went on to become Love as Laughter, which initially sounded like Lync as played on acoustic instruments and a department store Casio sampling keyboard. Dave Schneider later joined up with LaL as it was becoming more of a "real" band. They still retain Lync's spirit and innocence, though in a more Rolling Stones-rock way.
I hadn't heard of Lync until after they'd broken up, but I still remember when I first heard "Cue Cards" and "Clay Fighter" (from the These Are Not Fall Colors LP) on a friend's radio show like it was a rite of passage. It was, to an extent. I hadn't quite grasped the DIY ethic, it never meant much to me. But hearing Lync changed the way I thought about it. They did this because it was like they needed to, not to please anyone else. It sounded like what I imagine someone would want to sound like once they were diagnosed with a terminal disease and three days to live. Pure, immature but not really childish, loud, and with no secrets or agenda. This is what punk rock could've been if it didn't hide behind all that leather and/or conceit.