The right-hand man is a rock ‘n’ roll institution. Keith Richards, Joe Perry and Slash rightfully own as much square footage in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as any of their perversely famous, mic-twirling, crotch-grabbing singer mates. And while even the finest right-hand men aren’t quite synonymous with their band’s image and sometimes only get second dibs on artistic direction, their bodies of work speak for themselves. Lennon and McCartney clearly led the Beatles, for instance, but George Harrison could conjure up greatness at will and enjoyed the best solo career of the bunch.

The model happens to apply perfectly to the less-than-showy Chicago intellectual art-rock scene. The Sea and Cake, Wicker Park’s answer to Stereolab, Burt Bacharach and Television all at once, are led by the mellow, brainy Sam Prekop and his right-hand man, the equally mellow and brainy Archer Prewitt. The band plays what critics call “post-rock,” a mixture of jazz voicings, electronic texturing and rock urgency that evolved here in Chicago. Although lead singer Prekop’s self-titled debut sounded similar to the Sea and Cake’s other material, guitarist Prewitt creates something very different when he controls the writing.

On his third full length, titled Three – let’s not try too hard, Archer – he assembles a 14-piece band to perform ornate, more traditionally “musical” compositions replete with orchestral harmony, key and meter changes and many a lovelorn lyric. Despite being the George Harrison of the Sea and Cake, Prewitt the solo artist sounds a lot like Lennon and McCartney. Three logically follows past Prewitt efforts In The Sun and White Sky by imposing sophistication onto classic rock song structure. “Behind Your Sun” is textured like a Love or Tim Buckley song. “No Defense” leaps from disciplined to frenetic without warning, sounding a bit like Tom Verlaine covering side two of Abbey Road.

The 14 songs on Three are carefully studied. Each melody line, each vocal harmony, each horn blast, functions as part of a symphonic whole. Inevitably, a few tracks sound a little too academic.

Prewitt isn’t much of a singer, but his attempt to compensate with a soulful choir of female voices (actually Chicago’s own Kelly Hogan and Nora O’Connor) on “Sister Ice” is cringe-worthy. (Imagine Al Gore talking jive to reach urban youths.)

Bouts of headiness aside, Three has a lot going for it. Prewitt’s thoughtful, truly musical approach is a rarity in both indie and mainstream circles. With the tiresome Oui, the Sea and Cake are treading water and Prekop’s solo album fades after a few songs, but Archer Prewitt continues to thrive as a solo artist. Perhaps this right-hand man will soon be due a right-hand man of his own. nyou