The most momentous comeback Friday at The Summit was by Jenny Mae, the barfly singer-songwriter whose life spun out of control after her critically acclaimed 1990s heyday. Close friend Bela Koe-Krompecher has assembled a powerful memoir of her rise, demise and recovery at his blog, belakoekrompecher.wordpress.com.

The most momentous comeback Friday at The Summit was by Jenny Mae, the barfly singer-songwriter whose life spun out of control after her critically acclaimed 1990s heyday. Close friend Bela Koe-Krompecher has assembled a powerful memoir of her rise, demise and recovery at his blog, belakoekrompecher.wordpress.com.

I didn't get back from Cleveland in time for Jenny Mae - her ComFest set will have to suffice - but I did catch Terribly Empty Pockets. Their story isn't as dramatic as Jenny Mae's, nor their concerts as rare, yet their show felt like a long-lost memory anyway.

The Pockets were the first Columbus band I fell in love with. Five summers ago, I raced from my internship to see them play ComFest. I closely monitored their concert schedule. Their "Go To Bed Early" EP was on endless repeat.

Their formula seemed so singular: Josh Holt would invoke David Byrne while Justin Riley and Sarah BB harmonized, plinking at their arsenal of keys. Ben Colburn's guitar stabs and graceful arpeggios provided punch and texture, while Ryan Jewell's enthusiasm and ingenuity on drums was unparalleled, hinting at his future experimental works.

These were pop songs, though - unapologetically melodic balls of nervous energy that occasionally sprouted into anthems. With indie rock bleeding into the mainstream, they felt like a band that could rule the world.

It was more than a pipe dream. In those days, the Pockets played frequently with Times New Viking, now signed to venerable Matador, and Jordan O'Jordan, who's huge in New Zealand. (No kidding.)

As so often happens, life got in the way. Grad school took Holt and Sarah BB to Canada. When they moved back to Columbus last year, Terribly Empty Pockets became more hobby than pursuit. Numerous recording sessions yielded nothing but a treasure trove of unreleased gems.

Friday found them back where they started, playing for a few close friends. Newer material segued seamlessly with would-be classics like "Boy's Club" and "Sweet When You Were Young."

They closed with "Trucks," a propulsive, jangly B-side built for dancing. When they unfurled its irresistible singalong hook, I didn't mind that the Pockets never hit it big, so long as moments like this splendid little rave-up could still happen now and then. Lordy, lordy, ooh lordy!