If Rivers Cuomo , Stephen Malkmus and Beck were ever sitting together on a loveseat during a nuclear blast and became fused together like Siamese triplets, the result would probably end up sounding something like A Paper Cup Band’ s latest album. Their third release, “Sitting Shotgun to a Statue” is chock-full of facetious non-sequiturs and ’90s low-fi pop, channeling everything from the disheveled slacker-sounds of Pavement to sunny Weezer-like geek rock.

With a nasally yelp and wry wit, 26-year-old singer/guitarist Andrew Jensen weaves mopey tales of failed romance and quirky social interactions over arrangements that drift away from their signature brand of “bastard-folk,” ultimately gravitating toward a more polished pop-rock sound.

Playing in a manner that is as laid-back and frolicsome as the band mates’ general demeanor, A Paper Cup Band is one of Minneapolis’ best-kept secrets. Unified by their love for hook-heavy ’90s pop, the three-man unit was formed by Wisconsin natives Kyle Sobczak (drummer) and Andrew Jensen (guitarist/singer).

“We’ve all been bathing in the ’90s since we were five years old,” said Jensen.

Both originally from the quiet suburb of Mequon, Wis., Sobczak moved to St. Paul to attend McNally Smith College of Music and formed the band with Jensen in 2006 before recruiting bassist Griffin Fredrickson shortly afterward. In their formative years, the band developed a small underground following playing house shows as they fine-tuned their folk-based punk.

What may be “Sitting Shotgun to a Statue’s” greatest feat is how smoothly it flows while bouncing between different styles. The opening track, “Water Droplet,” is a buoyant three-minute groove rich with poppy goodness that wouldn’t at all feel out of place on an early Weezer record.

But the record takes a detour in “Thermose,” a torpid folk ballad driven by a blaring harmonica. Jensen’s sharp lyrics make him sound as clever as he is heartbroken as he sings: “Now I’m sea-sick and supple with envy / ’cause his hands are now touching the place I once was / Oh if only once more you could lend me / and release me from this brain lack luster fuzz.”

The album’s variances makes it unclear where exactly A Paper Cup Band falls on the rock ‘n’ roll spectrum, but they don’t seem irked by the ambiguity.

“I don’t think we identify with a singular scene,” Jensen said.

While the group praised the local music scene, Jensen acknowledged the hurdles.

“It’s hard to be in a band when there’s so much music going on and then when you’re just starting out for a while, only like ten people will go to your show,” he said. “And sometimes you get discouraged and you give up and go back to Columbia, Missouri, or something.”

But it’s A Paper Cup Band’s shared drive for experimentation and new sounds that keeps them hard at work. “Every album is slightly different, so I think that helps keep it moving forward,” Sobczak said.

If there is real qualitative issue with “Sitting Shotgun to a Statue,” it’s the album’s length. With none of the songs surpassing the four-minute mark, the album leaves something to be desired. But that’s not to say it still isn’t a finely crafted collection of music.

Perhaps what’s most refreshing about “Sitting Shotgun to a Statue” is its utter lack of pretension. It’s the sound of a band coming into their own but still willing to tread uncharted waters.

“Music is like your little buddy that follows you around on adventures,” Sobczak said, “And no matter what you do, it’s just kind of that sidekick that reflects whatever you’re doing.”