When pins crash from the assault of a bowling ball, they bounce off each other in a celebrated harmony defined only as “strike.”

When the free-flowing, overzealous members of Mr. Plow bounce off each other, a similar harmony is heard.

They call it “Funkblasto.”

Less than a week away from the long-awaited release of their debut record, “Funkblasto,” Mr. Plow kick back at a bowling alley a few blocks from the house where five of their six members reside.

In between pins crashing, hands fiving and voices freestyling, they explain how “Funkblasto” came to be.

As legend goes, lyrical masterminds Nick Pearson and Daniel Fjelland were penning verses to a new song, when from out of nowhere, drummer and occasional M.C. Ubong Stowe piped in with some advice.

“You need to say something cool in your rhymes, like, ‘I got my finger on the trigger of the funkblasto gun.”

Immediately, the basement rehearsal room erupted in laughter — not an uncommon sound to come from the proclaimed clown posse.

“That is your name forever,” someone quipped, “Funkblasto.”

Before stepping up to the lane, Stowe attempts to offer a more defined reason for naming their record “Funkblasto.”

“One of the key elements in our music is funk, and our live show definitely blasts you,” he says.

While bandmates struggle to piece together their fro-sporting friend’s words, the conversation turns to other records. Debuts Mr. Plow hope “Funkblasto” can be.

“Shootyz’ first album is so raw, and it’s money all the way through,” rapper and occasional bassist Sam Johnson says.

“Korn’s first record is pretty raw,” guitarist Paul Thacker adds, scanning the scorekeeper’s booth to get a response.

“I’m way off in saying, ‘Erykah Badu Live,'” Pearson says. “It’s so powerful, it’s hard to turn off.”

“Funkblasto” is the same way, at least Mr. Plow say it is. Aside from a few exceptions, they’re the only ones who’ve heard it.

“It’s gonna be a record that the fans are gonna like,” Pearson proclaims.

Mr. Plow possess the rare peculiarity of being a serious band that doesn’t take itself too seriously. “Funkblasto” was built on that foundation, by a band that stays motivated searching for new ways to make their musical exploration an enjoyable one.

“It was the best part of the whole summer for sure,” Johnson says of the midsummer weekend they spent locked up in a Minneapolis studio. “For the short amount of time we had, it couldn’t have gone any better.”

In three 14-hour days, the band never took a break. They ate meals out of vending machines and never stopped busting out their infectious beats and phat rhymes.

“I was really nervous,” Fjelland says, after bowling his third nine in a row. “We were inexperienced. We didn’t know what to expect. At first we thought the engineers would be jerks, saying, ‘You’re just a little band — a bunch of teen-agers.’ But we had the best engineers helping us.”

“They were the best part of the experience,” Johnson adds. “They came in and helped us when we needed help, but they let us do our thing. They knew where we were coming from and how much money we had.”

A440 Studios recorded and engineered “Funkblasto” for just under $2,000, a hefty sum for a band whose average age is 19.

“It takes unity to do a record,” blue-haired guitarist Ben Harrelson says, flashing a charming Chris O’Donnell-like smile. “We’re a family now.”

“What we learned was how to have more fun at shows and practice,” Pearson says. “We know what stuff is supposed to sound like now.”

Adjusting his thin frame in the plastic chairs, Fjelland comments, “I learned that Ben eats the most convenience store junk food of anybody I’ve ever seen. Frozen burritos.”

“It’s like 15 inches long, you can’t go wrong,” Harrelson says in his defense, praying he’s not misinterpreted.

If the guys seem more like video game-playing buddies than musical companions, it’s because they are. It’s a good bet that if music isn’t cranking from their Lincoln Way house, the Nintendos and Playstations are on.

Pop culture references are occasional in Mr. Plow lyrics, but when they come up, they usually refer to video games.

Though the song has little to do with the game, “T & C Surf Design” comes from what they call “an old school Nintendo classic.”

“Mission 19,” a James Bond party anthem driven by the chorus, “Tomorrow never dies/ Tomorrow never dies,” pays homage to the group’s favorite game, “Goldeneye.”

As a collective, Mr. Plow are full of favorites. Their favorite TV show is “The Simpsons,” where they stumbled upon their namesake, and their favorite restaurant is Taco Time.

Their favorite pastime, at least tonight, is critiquing each other’s bowling stroke.

Though they’d take Bond bullets for each other, they’re competitive as hell on the lanes.

During the beer frame, we take a break from an increasingly close bowling battle to talk more about “Funkblasto.”

“When I first joined, these guys wanted to make a record, like, the first week,” Johnson says. “We’d get to the point where we were ready, and then some of us would say, ‘We better wait.’ Finally we just said, ‘We have 12 songs. It’s been a year. We need to make a record.'”

Thacker says they made the record as whole, like a story. “And we wanted to convey our live show,” he says. “There’s two seconds between each song. Some songs overlap. We tried to convey our energy through the studio.”

I ask what their favorite song is and why. Fjelland jumps in, but before he says two words, his peers give his answer — “Newspaper Prophecies.”

“It’s our new song we’ve never played live,” Johnson explains. “We totally switched it up. Dan raps; I play drums; Paul plays bass; Ben plays lead guitar.”

“It’s something different from everything on the record,” Fjelland says proudly.

Johnson goes on to explain how the song works as the perfect ending to “Funkblasto.” “Dan’s last line is ‘I’ll kick more rhymes,'” he says. “And it ends hard, like saying, ‘We’ll be back.'”

Anxious to bowl another strike, Stowe offers his answer — “T & C Surf Design,” the likely first single from “Funkblasto.”

“It’s just a kickin’ song, powerful all the way through. The perfect song to start out the CD.”

Harrelson says “Project,” because the vocals get to him, while Johnson says “It’s Your Turn.”

“That was the only song that vocally we got right the first time,” he explains. “Dan was so pissed from the last track that he pumped us all up. And you can hear it, from the very first chorus.”

Thacker, who often seems like he’s talking to nobody, pushes in, announcing “Make Your Head Spin.”

“When I hear it, I just smile,” he says. “The chorus is so catchy.”

And capping off the break, Pearson amuses his bandmates. “The whole album sucks,” he says with more conviction than his usual Humpty Hump utterance. “I like a lot of them. I like ‘Lessons’ a lot. It’s got the crunch.”

Back to the game, where Stowe is wearing his usually unpredictable emotions on his ball and Fjelland is still bitching about his nine curse, conversation turns to Mr. Plow’s somewhat rapid rise to local stardom.

A year ago, the funkdafied b-boys were virtually unheard of, skipping high school band practice to play Tuesday night gigs at the now defunct Friends Club.

But key shows ranging from opening slots with Tone Loc and 35″ Mudder to playing for a History of Rock ‘n’ Roll class have brought the band to the epicenter of an exploding musical arena.

But when I ask about going from the bottom to the top of the local scene, Pearson quickly corrects me.

“We’re not even in the middle yet,” he says. “We get all this hype, but we rarely leave Ames.”

“We’re the great white hype,” Fjelland adds, nodding his head as if he’s stumbled upon a lyric.

When nearly 4,000 students walked into the Rec Center the Wednesday night of Veishea last year, they had no idea what to expect.

But Mr. Plow fed off the curious crowd and played their most energetic set to date. Stowe even left his drum kit for a song and jumped so hard on stage, the wood was squeaking.

“I just remember grabbing my guitar and looking out into the crowd and being in total awe,” Harrelson recalls.

“They opened the doors, and the people wouldn’t stop coming in,” Stowe adds. “It felt like a real concert, like one you go to and pay $25 to see.”

Tone Loc was so struck with the Beastie Boys-style rappers, he invited Pearson to compete in an improv freestyle competition.

Though he didn’t take home Tone’s $100 bill, the scene summarized Mr. Plow’s existence — a band more about on-stage entertainment than back-stage politics.

Mr. Plow has always been eager to support the local scene. They hang out wherever Grubby Ernie,Medulla Oblongata or Bolsa de Papas are playing, inviting other musicians to jam with them.

“There’s so many good bands here,” Johnson says, bowling a strike that puts him in the lead. “There’s high school bands that are going to be really good.”

Their friendships with more experienced musicians have played a major factor in Mr. Plow’s success.

“When we first started out, we played a couple of shows with the king of local bands, 35″ Mudder,” Stowe explains. “We realized how far they’ve come.”

“There were a couple of points where us looking at their work ethic made us work harder,” Johnson says. “They were key points that we needed to step up to reach our goals.”

When Mr. Plow take People’s stage Saturday for their CD-release party, their friends in Grubby Ernie, 38th Parallel and Custom will be there to celebrate.

“All of the bands have been supportive,” Pearson says. “There haven’t been any rivals or anything.”

More than an hour has gone by and with management hinting to end the game, Mr. Plow step up for the 10th frame.

Like they’re picking up their instruments, each of them wears a smile that is part serious, part just happy-to-be-here.

The final scores read, “BEN 87, MOS 127, UBO 110, DAN 104, SAM 128, NIK 116, SKT 117.”

As Johnson begins bragging about his victory, the egos expand, and suddenly, we’re powwowing about Mr. Plow on a national level.

The guys say they’d definitely leave school if the opportunity to tour the country presented itself.

And though Mr. Plow assert they’re in the same category as 2 Skinnee Js, Zebrahead and Shootyz Groove, they realize they’ll probably be tabbed with the same rap-rock label as Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit, two of the top-selling acts of the year.

“If people want to compare us to Limp Bizkit because we rap and we have guitars, then go ahead, but that’s not all that we are,” Johnson says.

Admiring his bowling kicks one last time, Pearson leaves, dropping his closing statement like he’s ending a rap.

“We’re Funk and Blasto.”