"Maybe I'm not the best keyboard player, but I think that's an asset sometimes," she said. "If you're not technically the hotshot you can be more creative. I think limitations can be really freeing. Whatever kind of limitations: budgetary, technical or anything. That's when creativity happens, I think."

Get There is, on the surface, a harmony-filled nugget of power-pop that remains referential to their signature sounds, nods to the '90s aesthetic in which they first came up musically. But after they point it out, the limitations become this interesting sonic element that pops out, the quest for a catchy hook chief among their self-relegated boxes.

"I feel like, maybe if I was a more mature songwriter I wouldn't want everything to be catchy all the time," Caws said. "But I kinda do. I want it all to be sing-songy and catchy and repetitive, kind of for comfort. People have said a lot of corny things about songwriting, but it is like meditation. It's therapy. And for me it's just a compulsion. It feels really good, in a way, to compartmentalize feelings."

The album is a collaboration first and foremost, though Hatfield isn't known for being a collaborative songwriter. Separately the pair are excellent at crafting songs about universal ideas using the specific details of everyday life (see: "I Don't Know What To Do With My Hands"). Caws chalks it up to a shared sensibility and describes their writing process as "kind of like producing the other person." Still, Hatfield was unsure about collaborating in the writing process.