The story of Dead Moon—the iconoclastic Clackamas, Ore., band that's always gone about its business its own damn way, thank you—is a lot of things.

It's a rock 'n' roll story. An anti-establishment story. It's the story of the triumph of the independent spirit. It's a story of family. It's a story of consistency.

Dead Moon—a trio long spoken of in hushed tones in the Pacific Northwest, adored in Europe and relatively unknown east of the Rockies—has been fronted for the whole of its 18-year existence by Fred Cole, 56, and his wife of 37 years, Toody Cole, 55. (Drummer Andrew Loomis, 43, the group's tenderfoot, has also been with the band for the duration.)

But far from a bunch of old-heads going through the motions, Dead Moon's garage rock skronk, though light years from the bleeding edge, is as vital as that coming out of any carport in Williamsburg or Stockholm. With the release of Dead Ahead on their own Tombstone label—the band's 10th studio album (not counting nearly as many live releases)—Dead Moon proves that you're exactly as young as you feel.

And while the Coles, who met in nearby Portland in 1966, are old enough and then some to have spawned most of the rock acts who've shot up the charts in recent years, they're as in love as when they were 18.

On "One World," the sort of instantly indelible tune that's a staple of the Dead Moon catalog, Fred sings: "We were matched in pairs on the tail of the comet's streak/ We never knew it then it was you and me … One world, one voice, one girl, one choice/ one world, one life, one chance to get it right."

It's the kind of lyric that kindles a true love sparked ages earlier, while revealing a learned appreciation born of experience. The thought of two people, midway through their sixth decade, singing heartbreakingly earnest love songs to each other is beyond touching.

"I'd say 90 percent … most of it is pretty personal and autobiographical," says Toody Cole, on a hotel phone from a tour stop in Columbus, Ohio, of the sentiments that crop up in the band's lyrics. "It's as fresh as it was in the beginning. [Fred and I] grew up together and we've both evolved to where we are right now. It's something completely different than it was when we were kids, and it was a shitload then."

It's this sense of preordained partnership, and the couple's staunch loyalty to it, that's fueled the band's unlikely path to cult adoration and fiercely independent self-determination. The Coles put down roots in remote Clackamas in part because it affords them privacy to do their own thing. "I dare you to find it," laughs Toody of their wooded outpost. "It's just a little crossroads, truthfully. It's pretty much a commercial/industrial area. We've got 21.5 acres, and the major farming in the area is raising Christmas trees. We're never really home to take care of it."

You expect this sort of rugged individualism from a band that appropriated the 1844 anti-British war slogan "54/40 or Fight" and spun it into a mission statement of sorts. Wary of ever having to answer to the man, Dead Moon has released all its own records on Tombstone (even cutting the masters on their own lathe) and until the mid-1990s had eschewed touring the unforgiving East Coast in favor of Europe where they enjoy near-deity status.

"It's about having total control," figures Toody. "Fred's the driving force, he's the songwriter. He prefers doing things himself. … It's the easiest way for us to get things done as opposed to being under someone else's control. It's about not having a boss," she laughs.

The band's records—for years only available on vinyl and still recorded 100 percent in mono—have never aimed for high fidelity. "It's just easiest for us. It feels like we're most connected," explains Toody. "We just record live off the floor and overdub vocals. … Recording is a very dry, unexciting medium. We'd much rather play live. And songs, after they are recorded, take on their own personality and vibe."

Which explains the band's tendency to release live discs. "They're like looking at old photographs," Toody muses. "Putting out records is so invaluable. They're a piece of your history, and a moment of time. You could never go back in time and sound that way again."

It sounds not unlike a mother looking over old baby photos. Which isn't a stretch considering Toody and Fred are parents of three and grandparents seven times over. The Coles and their brood all live in the Portland area, where they "see each other as much as we can," says Toody.

So it's also with this in mind that the Coles have built their wooded homestead and have cobbled together a living through rental properties and two businesses: a record store they've owned since 1974 and Clackamas' Tombstone General Store where one can buy the essentials, "Cigarettes, beer, milk," says Toody.

Thu., Sept. 30, 9 p.m., $8, with Trauma Queens and The Chromed Horse Diplomats, The Khyber, 56 S. Second St., 215-238-5888.