Music wasn’t the plan for Jason Lytle. In fact, for most of his adolescence it wasn’t even the dream. Lytle began his young adult life as a professional skateboarder, a logical hobby given his suburban Californian upbringing, before a knee injury abruptly ended his athletic career. In his recovery, he poured his attention into music, recording small demos. Those songs would become his first releases as Grandaddy, a project that has expanded and contracted with time but has consistently been a home for Lytle’s lyrics and, by extension, his anxieties. And as is befitting of a band born from the painful failings of the human form, Grandaddy’s discography excavates the splendor in our inevitable degradation.