The first six months saw the release of most of the best albums, while some of my favorites have already recorded next year’s contenders but won’t release them until ‘12. These heavy hitters include The Foreign Films, Explorers Club, and Bryan Scary.

One: Marco Joachim, “Hidden Symphonies.” “Hidden Symphonies” is a pop masterpiece that achieves a Sgt. Pepper-like grandeur through constant melodic and textural invention. “Gramercy Park” is as memorable as anything the Beatles achieved in later years. “Cellophane Sue” is an obvious goof on “Polythene Pam” and a solid hit in its own right. Marco is immeasurably aided by producer/guitarist Jon Gordon whose epic guitar is all over these tracks.

Two: Cirrone: “Uplands Park Road.” These Sicilian brothers (with Ferdinando Piccoli on drums) reinvent the modern pop song drawing on the Beatles, the Beach Boys, Big Star, the Byrds, Crosby, Stills and Nash, the Hollies, the Zombies and every other great power popper, but they have a unique sound built around three-part harmonies and Alessandro’s and Mirko’s thrilling guitar work. Don’t believe perfection is unobtainable. Listen to this record.

Three: Supraluxe: “The Super Sounds of Supraluxe.” The Twin Cities-based trio don’t sound like a trio due to the density of each member’s contribution. Every song burrows into your skull and contains a surprising but logical development. “Lester Bangs” pays tribute to the late writer (who once slept in my bed) with a rockin’ raver. “Sunday’s Not So Bad” should put-paid to “Easy Like Sunday Morning” once and for all.

Four: Bookends: “Proud Of My Stereo.” Silly name for an album of sweeping grandeur and emotional range. Like Supraluxe, this Finnish trio casts a spell out of all proportion to their size. The songs by Lauri Leskinen and Ville Terila shun Brill Bdlg. conventions in favor of an experimental melodic palette reminiscent of XTC. “Shaking Off the Mantra” has more melodic invention than whole albums by other groups.

Five: The Secret Powers: “What Every Rose Grower Should Know.” Mad pop experimentalism along the lines of Yes and XTC yields TSP’s best record yet. The title track in particular is pop rococo, each change-up sucking you deeper into the experience. And has there been a better animals song than “Tarantula?” Or a better Ennio Morricone/Sergio Leone riff than “The Desert?”

Six: The Turnback: “Drawn in Chalk.” Another trio with an enormous sound, The Turnback absorbs every great power pop trope of the past forty years and feeds them back fresh. Echoes of the Beatles, Moby Grape, The Cars, the Plimsouls and you name it find their way into the songs which emerge totally fresh. The record serves as a partial soundtrack to singer/songwriter/actor Todd Giglio’s gut-wrenching film of the same name, which asks the question, When do you give up on your dream of being an artist and face the real world? But not all these great songs appear in the movie. More about the movie later but in the meantime this is a must-have.

Seven: Radio Days: “C’est La Vie.” Like the Turnback, this Italian quartet has absorbed every power pop trope and turned them into something unique, with stunning harmonies, more hooks than a Russian trawler, and Omar Assadi’s massive guitar to which he frequently adds a lounge-like coda, like a drop of black paint in a bucket of white that ultimately results in the paint appearing even whiter. “Dirty Tricks” with its stop and go rhythm is a dirty trick on the listener as you want the song to go on forever.

Eight: Meyerman: “Who Do You Think You Are?” Gotta love a power pop pioneer who wears his heart on his sleeve. Theo Mayer’s quartet, with guitar monster Mike Eckhart, worships at the Fountains of Wayne, the Move, and Ed James, whose “Welcome to the Show” is a predecessor to Meyerman’s “Intro/Tonight” and “Permission to Rock You,” a one-two punch that will leave you reeling and gasping for more.

Nine: Kelly’s Heels: “Playing Into Your Hands.” Another trio with an enormous sound because they all sing. Bob Kelly’s songs are reminiscent of the Mamas and the Papas and their greatest acolytes, Marmalade Souls. That is, these are songs of sweeping emotion, brilliant hooks and unending musicality.

Ten: Kensington: “Borders.” This Dutch quartet sounds like a cross between Field Music and the Byrds with great jangle and Everly Brothers harmonies courtesy of the two guitar slingers, Casper Starreveld and Eloi Youssef. Youssef has a unique guitar style that sounds almost pizzicato.

Outstanding new voices such as Marco Joachim, Cirrone or The Turnback would have had numerous singles in the top ten thirty years ago.

There are many reasons for the press’s lack of interest including economics, but there is a cultural reason, too. The establishment press long ago became suspicious of art for art’s sake. Beauty and good vibes are so bourgeoisie. It’s got to have an edge, an attitude or sucker punches about the failure of the capitalist system, the hypocrisy of religion, or the need to take public transport.

The movement reached its apotheosis in Spin’s infamous 1993 review of Jellyfish’s ‘Spilt Milk.’  The magazine’s reviewer dismissed the album as mindless ear candy, offering faint praise for one song, the vaguely classist ‘Russian Hill. ‘The reviewer thought it was about the haves versus the have-nots. Music shorn of socio-political content is ‘not relevant.’  It’s even worse if the band voices an opinion contrary to the kultursmog.

Modern recording technology and the Internet enable bands to be their own labels and gin up interest.  Why would Hindu Rodeo or Bryan Scary send a review disc to Rolling Stone?  They don’t advertise in Rolling Stone.  Hence, Rolling Stone has no interest in them.  Imagine Rolling Stone reviewing Hindu Roideo’s “Evil White Man,” with lyrics like:

I  wish I was a black man, so I’d know right from wrong, so I’d never belong, so I’d protest this song, but I’m an evil white man.

Due to the changing nature of technology, music magazines themselves are on the verge of extinction, like their host bodies the dinosaur music labels. Major labels have shunned power pop with a few exceptions like Barenaked Ladies, Cheap Trick, a rebooted Cars and the Gin Blossoms. They “get” bands like Cheap Trick because they’ve been around for thirty years. They’re part of the scene. They had verifiable hits! And they advertise in print.

The last time Rolling Stone mentioned Jellyfish was in a short article about Jason Falkner in 2001. The article focused on Falkner’s reaction to the death of George Harrison and said, “Even if Falkner never uttered a word about it, his life-long Beatles fandom would be evident in the melodic treasures that makeup his two Elektra albums, 1996’s Jason Falkner Presents Author Unknown and 1999’s Can You Still Feel?, not mention in the heavy-handed homages of his early Nineties outfit Jellyfish” (emphasis mine).

Innovation and distribution have changed the way we consume music. Thirty years ago, every college town was rife with record stores – big chains like Discount Records and Sam Goode. Twenty years ago, those stores switched over to CDs. But today the big box stores are barely keeping their CD sections alive. Consumers download music into their iPods. There’s no physical package to roll joints on or find out who wrote what. Many young musicians recognize this and offer CDs which may only be obtained from their websites or at live shows. You download both music and the album art.

Jerry Rio of Sunrise Highway says, “Except for the Beyoncés or Lady Gagas there’s no money being made by labels. And power pop… forget about it.  I think about people like Usher or John Legend… it’s nowhere near Motown or R&B from the great years. I think the Kings Of Leon suck.  I was listening to ‘Jigsaw Puzzle’ on Beggars Banquet last night. What a song, production, performance.  Music is not quite as inspired these days.”

Online magazines such as www.absolutepowerpop.com, www.powerpopaholic.com, www.popgeekheaven.com, and many others have sprung up on the web to serve the needs of the power pop community. PopGeekHeaven is the work of Bruce Brodeen, whose Not Lame label released over 100 albums from 1994 to 2010, many of which became highly-sought collectors’ items.

Readers have complained that previous power pop news did not advance the conservative movement,* but I think that’s part of the point. Remember when music was just music and didn’t have to serve an agenda? Rio asks an all too familiar question: where is today’s Motown? Power pop bands dare to deliver pure pleasure for which they are dismissed as “selfish.” We’d like to live in a less-politicized culture where choosing a song is not a political statement. Power pop is that culture.

*Which is not to say there haven’t been great conservative power poppers and rockers: Ray Davies, Danny Elfman, Hindu Rodeo, Rush, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Rick Altizer, even John Lennon if we’re to believe the recent revelations.

—–

There is another world out there, young pop bands shunning the traditional channels and using the internet to sell their exquisitely crafted, gloriously melodic pop.  Twenty-ten was another banner year in which it was difficult to limit the top ten to only ten.  Nevertheless, here goes.

1. Oranjuly formed in 2009 joining lead singer and writer Brian E. King who had already been working on these songs for years.  Every year it seems a one-man band emerges to stun us.  In years past it’s been Roger Klug and Josh Fix.  This year it’s Oranjuly’s Brian E. King who says, “I played everything but drums and cello. I did play drums on South Carolina though!”  Now the band is a five piece so they can reproduce these astounding sounds in public.  This time the Jellyfish comparisons are apt.  King also has a knack for sunny Beach Boys-style harmonies which permeate the record.  If architecture is frozen music this is the Taj Mahal.

2. Sunrise Highway Instant classic.  Seamless collection of sunset (not sunrise, as the title suggests) dreamy surf-tinged pop that effortlessly evokes the world as it might appear in a Thomas Kinkade painting with swooningly gorgeous stacked harmonies.  Yes Brian Wilson is a cornerstone but there’s so much more going on here, and in songs like “Magic” and “Roundabout,” Sunshine Highway establishes their own sound firmly.  Instrumentally challenging—note guitarist Marc Silvert’s bent note solo on “Endless Summer.”  Silvert wrote most of this material which makes him a major American songwriter in my book.

3. Timmy Sean: Songs From & Inspired by Noisewater. Another one-man band.  Timmy Sean started recording in ’06 and finished in ’10 as the cover art amusingly illustrates.  Much like Bryan Scary’s first record, Sean puts together a keyboard-based minor mode masterpiece in “Noisewater Overture,” theme music to epic noir science fiction.  The melody works you over like a Rolfing specialist but it only feels good.  Every song is a polished gem of great pop dynamics.  Brian Mahoney plays sax on the Billy Joel-esque “If Your Mother Has Her Way.”  I would be remiss for not mentioning the exquisitely Beatle-inspired “Wait” with a bridge to die for.

4. Buva: Not Scary!  Friendly! Opening with lazy day acoustic guitar, Buva spins a beguiling web on “Smoke Into the Sky,” sounding more like Badfinger than Badfinger itself.  Again the key is endless melodic invention with well-thought-out hooks and choruses that will have you singing along.  Buva (Tom Wolfe) shuns Brill Bdlg song conventions on “You Say It Too” which consists of three movements—the Byrds-like tonic, fantastic bridge and a chorus that is both surprising and logical.  “Hide Away” has a McCartney feel.  So if you love the Three Bees; Beach Boys, Byrds and Beatles, add a fourth.

5. The High Dials: Anthems for Doomed Youth.  This is the second year in a row the High Dials have landed on my top ten list.  This Canadian quartet absorbed the principles of early Brit rock: the Zombies, the Beau Brummels, Pink Floyd, and melds it with a modern psychedelic edge that makes their music seem both familiar and experimental.  “Teenage Love” charges out of the gate with chiming guitars and a massive hook.  More than a touch of Byrds here.  “Uruguay” combines chamber pop with an anthemic chorus and stadium guitars.  “The Rich Die Too” doesn’t sound too much like the Zombies.  Ceaseless melodic invention.

6. Paul Collins: King of Power Pop! Paul Collins was in the Nerves which split giving birth to Paul Collins’ Beat and the Plimsouls.  The Beat is a great American rock band in the tradition of The Replacements.  King of Power Pop! Is a straight-ahead blast of no-frills power pop with rockabilly undertones thanks to Collins’ unique voice.  He’s still got that duck’s ass glissando at the end of each vocal.  Songs like “C’mon Let’s Go!” “Do You Wanna Love Me” and “Doin’ It for the Ladies” speak for themselves.  “Don’t Blame Your Troubles on Me” is an appropriately snotty expression of middle-aged punk fury.  Paul throws in a two minute version of “The Letter” as homage to his spiritual predecessor Alex Chilton.  “The Kings of Power Pop” has surprising emotional heft.

7. The Like: Release Me. Okay, this one’s on Geffen.  Score one for the dinosaur media.  Cheeky all girl quartet with a designer bag full of great girl songs.  Sounds a lot like the Shangri-Las.  Grabs you with “Wishing He Was Dead” and carries all the way through.  Standouts include “Walk of Shame,” “Narcissus in a Red Dress,” and the insanely catchy “Catch Me If You Can.”  Do you crave cheesy Farfisa organ?  It’s all here.  (Not played by regular organist Annie Monroe, but by studio honcho Victor Axelrod.)  Lead singer Z Berg has that classic Maryanne Faithful sound.

8. The Contrast: God of Malfunction. “We are strange and getting stranger/We won’t change we’ll screw the danger,” the Contrast sing on “Coming Back to Life.”  Insistent beat, exquisite harmonies, offbeat chords, and pumping roller rink organ permeate every song.  “I Am an Alien” sounds like Ziggy Stardust era Bowie.   “Better than They Seem,” an ironic paean to positive thinking combines Beatlesque chords and harmonies with a dissonant bridge.  “She’s a Disaster” evokes Jefferson Airplane but these guys are just off-kilter enough to create their own sound.

9. Zombies of the Stratosphere: Ordinary People.   These lovers of classic Brit pop (including the Zombies) and American psychedelia incorporate a vast panoply of influences to create a highly melodic and very personal statement.  The opener, “Our Life in Shadow Falls,” is almost pure Kinks save for Arthur Smith’s very un-Davies-like vocal.  “Love Song 99” borrows Marshall Crenshaw’s chords with a classic Brit-rock bridge and chorus.  “Flyboy” might have come off the Dukes of Stratospheare record.

“The Other Side of the World” is sui generis, a bittersweet rocker with a doo wop chorus.

“All Those Pretty Lies” ends the record on a sigh.

10. Smash Palace. Don’t play this in the car.  “Win It All” is Raspberries-strength power pop that instantly adds 30 mph to your speed.  Hard-edged but sweet Replacements-like band effortlessly bangs out one hook after another.  “Win” and the follow-up “How Can You Say” pack an almost Stones-like one-two-punch before the band breaths deep with the pleasingly off-kilter “Holding Out For You.”  “All in Love is Fair” sounds like the theme song to a Peter Gunn-type show.  Stephen Butler has a matinee idol’s voice—a young Peter Cetera.  Plays excellent guitar too.  “Somebody Up There Likes Me” is a rockin’ expression of gratitude.

They have now released a live record, Fools Face Live at Last (Talk, 2005) that is among the greatest rock recordings ever made. The recording is superb, the audience is electric, and the music itself is timeless fist-pumping power pop, song after song after song.

I have seen the Rolling Stones, McCartney and Wings, Queen, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix and Santana to name a few, and I have sought live recordings of all of them. Live At Last ranks with the very best, apart from the reasons stated above, precisely because they are a relatively unknown band from the heartland. The record’s unexpected nature only enhances its greatness. 

Like Duke Ellington’s legendary Live at Fargo, 1940, this recording captures master musicians at the height of their powers.

“To Be Someone” leads with poignant bittersweet power chords like those used by their Midwestern brethren the Hawks and Spooner.

“American Guilt” should be the national anthem. It has a massive hook and invites sing-alongs. “Cherokee persuasion, Navajo town, got my reservation for the burial ground…Tell America her heart is in the right place, tell America be sure not to hate, tell America to move at her own pace, tell America it might be too late…when push comes to shove and we don’t have love…”

Guitars foam and snarl throughout. Listen to the guitar break on “Diamonds and Pearls.” It gave me a nosebleed. “Land of the Hunted” is a masterpiece of propulsion combining the urgency of 20/20 with the musical sass of the Buzzcocks. Brian Coffman and Jimmy Frink repeatedly hit an exquisite harmony that would have pleased the Everly Brothers. The recording was made in 2000 when these guys were in their forties and fifties. For anyone who loves rock this record will plunge you deep into your youth for sixty minutes.

The large party room with stage at the Senior Center was filled to capacity by the time Elvis appeared.  He brought a ten-piece band including five back-up singers wearing black suits and ties and one black dress.  Elvis wore a dazzling white preacher’s suit with a crimson cravat.  The first half was devoted to Gospel, beginning with a stunning a capella “Swing Low Sweet Chariot,” and proceeding through a remarkable set of songs including “Walking With the Spirits, “The Battle of Jericho” (which employed a heavy doo-wop style,) “Rock My Soul,” and an a capella “Johnny Saw a Big Number” that stunned.

This is much more than homage.  George Gray has a huge emotive tenor that evokes Elvis with ease.  Gray and the band worship the King and his music and it shows in every note.  Bass vocalist Charlie Spillman, from Fort Collins, anchored the chorus with freight train authority.  The first half ended with “Amazing Grace” and “How Great Thou Art.” 

The band returned for the rock and roll half in fresh costume, singers wearing shimmering ivory and slate dashikis, Elvis in sequined white jumpsuit with a belt buckle the size of Texas.  This was the mature Elvis.  Anyone looking for that skinny guy in the black leather jumpsuit was advised to seek elsewhere.  Trombone, flugelhorn and the rhythm section played Strauss’ “Thus Spack Zarathustra,” the official over-the-top pop intro since Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. 

Elvis leaped into “That’s All Right Mama” and his whole demeanor changed.  Whereas before he had been rooted to one spot, this rockier Elvis moved around and struck Elvis poses which were both homage and parody.  There was nothing parodistic about the singing, however, as Elvis ripped through “Return to Sender,” “Heartbreak Hotel,” “Teddy Bear,” a mash-up of “Hound Dog” and “All Shook Up,” “Love Me Tender,” and many others.  Periodically he would summon some granny from the audience, allow her to mop his brow before bestowing a silk kerchief.  The grannies loved it.

Elvis slowed it down for “Suspicious Minds,” showcasing his powerhouse range and mastery of dynamics.  He ended with a mash-up of “Dixie” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

Out in the hall was a poster for Steve Lippia, the Sinatra impersonator who is bringing a full orchestra to the Civic Center.  The tickets are over thirty-five bucks but hey, if you close your eyes…

As I contemplate the current music scene I wonder which contemporary performers will spawn the sincerest form of flattery.  There are already numerous takes on the Beatles.  The Rolling Stones are problematic.  Future imitators will focus on individuals.  Elton John, Billy Joel, the Boss?  Will there be Springsteen imitators?  Anything is possible but no contemporary figure compares to the iconic status of an Elvis or a Sinatra.

The qualitative differences among the top five are nugatory.  One could easily choose any of them as the record of the year. 

–

#1: The Shazam – Meteor

These big-hearted stadium rockers have been building toward this titanic yawp of iconic anthems for years.

“So Awesome” opens the record with a twenty-one guitar salute to the joy of living, lead guitar as hard and elegant as the Golden Gate Bridge.  “Don’t Look Down” is a power ballad with every lick carved in stone.  You could climb the notes like a staircase.  Hans Rotenberry’s vocals are winsome and masterful, going from cooed aside to anthemic bellow in a heartbeat.  “Disco at the Fairground” is the best Move song the Move never recorded.  Alternating sinister, earth-chewing minor chords with drunken sailor music hall choruses it crunches euphorically.  Zappa would approve.

“A Little Better” is a self-improvement song that might have come off Workingman’s Dead with a harder rock edge.  “Always Tomorrow” is one of those bittersweet masterpieces built around a simple repeating guitar motif overlaid with Rotenberry’s pliant vocals filled with inchoate longing as is all great pop.

“Let it Fly” is an emotionally potent paean to hope harking back to “Squeeze the Day” from Tomorrow the World.  The hushed beginning telegraphs its hortatory heart before that heavy bass cuts in.  The chorus with its muffled kettledrums sends chills down your spine.  This is life affirming rock that will have you grabbing an invisible Telecaster and yelling “YEAH!”

“Hey Mom I Got the Bomb” contains the lyric:

I got The Bomb, yeah I got The Bomb
If you don’t think I’ll use it you’re ridiculously wrong 

You have to hear this to get the full effect.

“Time For Pie” is a distillation of every great arena rock solo you ever heard.

As far as I know you can only order the record from www.theshazam.com and www.notlame.com.  Should be available from cdbaby.com shortly.  You won’t hear about the Shazam in Rolling Stone or Spin.  You won’t hear them on Big Radio, certainly not on MTV or VH-1.  The Shazam are merely the tip of the iceberg.  And the hardest part of the iceberg too. 

***

#2: Campbell Stokes Sunshine Recorder –  Makes Your Ears Smile 

One man band Andy Morten conducts a clinic in power pop dynamics dancing unerringly from hook to bridge to chorus with the grace of a psychedelic Fred Astaire.  “Track One” opens in off-hand manner but within the space of a heartbeat transforms into the first of many thrilling anthems.  Morten does everything well.  Aside from the obvious songwriting and singing his drums are propulsive and mellifluous and his guitar playing is melodically spot on.

“She Looks Good in the Sun” nods to the Beach Boys but Morten’s style is as unique in its own way as Brian Wilson’s.  His songs take unexpected but wholly appropriate turns.  The one note wah-wah adds a delicious tension.  “Tony Hazzard” is a goof on the disposable nature of pop music but the melody and dynamics are anything but.  Like the other songs on this record they will echo in your skull.

With its McCartney-esque bass pops and progression of elegantly thrilling chords “Mrs. Bumble” is an instant classic, a mini-suite reminiscent of “Suite Judy Blue Eyes” or any number of Beatles-esque freak-outs.  A bridge as delicate as spun sugar segues into a chorus that’s all get up and go.  Simply sublime.

“Everybody Loves the Good Times” is another insanely ambitious pop saga reminiscent of XTC without the clash of class warfare.  Pitch perfect guitar adds poignant piquancy to a song with more changes than the second side of Abbey Road.  This guy’s a pop Tchaikovsky.

“Feel the Sunshine” is merely the fifth astonishing song on one of the best records of the year.  Any year. 

***

#3: Fun –  Aim and Ignite 

Highly original orchestral rock with elements of Broadway musicals, Beach Boys, Sly and the Family Stone, Van Morrison, Dexys’ Midnight Runners, and Dylan.  A song like “Benson Hedges” with its soaring harmonies and spectacular lead vocal performance lends weight to an eloquent, incoherent rant about the singer’s fucked-up life.

“All the Pretty Girls” could have come off Mika’s new CD, an irresistible dance ditty to a standoffish girl who threatens to leave.  Very effective use of strings.  “I Wanna be the One” matches Sly in its clever use of nursery-rhyme melodies incorporated into a larger structure.  Fun is three guys: Jack Antonoff, Andrew Dost, and Nate Ruess.  Doesn’t say who does what, but whoever sings lead has a commanding voice reminiscent of Freddie Mercury.

“At Least I’m Not as Sad” incorporates children chanting an elemental tune embellishing a horn chooglin’ reggae that grabs your attention like a desperate meth freak with vocal pyrotechnics and myriad rhythmic changes.

“Walking the Dog” also has reggae in the riddum and singing, a joyous paean to a woman who’s thinking of leaving, with a hook big enough to snag Moby Dick.  “Barlights” has an almost gospel feel.

”The Gambler” is one of the most emotionally powerful songs I’ve ever heard.  This is one of those great sui generis records like Dexys’ Too-Rye-Aye or Bryan Scary’s Flight of the Knife. 

***

#4: Broken Promise Keeper – Ice Cold Pop 

Straight-ahead pop rock as addictive as crack.  Rob Stuart sounds effortless in everything he does, difficult to do when you’re providing your own rhythm section.  Not only does he sound effortless he sounds unique in a way I haven’t heard since the first Marshall Crenshaw album.  He defines his territory—the half acoustic straight ahead rocker (Tom Petty, Crenshaw, Billy Joel) and hits you with a triple combination that leaves you dazed and wanting more.

“Directions,” Worship From Afar,” and “Kristine” constitute three of the most killer first songs I’ve heard in years.  BPK is instantly likable and instantly identifiable.  Some bands play their entire careers without forging an identifiable sound.  All those “American Idol” winners.

“I Blame James,” call-checks James Kirk, James Bond, and James West as it speaks to the power of TV.  Stuart’s take on “spy guitar” is pretty funny.  The songs run one into another without breaks which I always like especially when they keep turning up the heat as they do here.  Dig Stuart’s crazy bass line on “Look Out Hollywood.”

Effortless ass-kickin’ mastery. 

***

#5: Throwback Suburbia – Throwback Suburbia

Instantly memorable series of great songs reminiscent of a thousand bands and yet unique.  Craftsmanship is old school—distinctive melodies, powerful choruses, and  satisfying hooks.  These guys have studied their Brill Building.

Keyboards give them country vibes, big guitars give them drama and tension.  Jimi Evans’ honeyed tones sell everything from power ballads to lawn mowers and most songs feature three part harmonies.  “Rewind” is a power ballad with guitar like the leaf spring off a Chevy truck smacking you in the head.  I mean that in the best possible way.  “Head Over Heels” is a joyful hand-clapper with sing along chorus.  “Same Mistake” is a deliriously sweet castanet clappin’ dirge to self-destruction.  I can almost see Lou Christie belting this at the Flamingo Lounge.

“All About Me” is a pitiless self-examination of narcissism that ought to be the official anthem of the Y Generation.

There’s more, much more and every one is a gem.  The whole CD is a home run. 

***

#6: Roger Klug — More Help For Your Nerves 

‘Nother (mostly) damned one-man band.  This is a mammoth selection of songs showing off Klug’s writing skills and musicianship.  Every song has a chorus and a hook which we take for granted but you’d be surprised how many Billboard and EW hits get by on one chord or less.  “Tinnitus” is an opening guitar blast that leads into the exuberant “Dump Me Hard,” among the most upbeat of failed relationship songs.

“I’m So Worried About Time” is an all-out rock onslaught that slides into a bluegrass break in the middle, then back to the avalanche.  “For the Kids” is a heart breaker about a young woman geared toward motherhood.  It’s not so much what Klug says but how he says it in elegiac chords that scream irony.  Strong contender for Song of the Year.

“The Day I Had My Brain Removed” jolts with an unexpected but deliriously sweet hook, then marches off to a Scottish breakdown.  A guitar duel highlights “Hi-Hat” which features one of Klug’s more unexpected hooks containing the memorable phrase, “Bored as Ohio.”

“When Dreams Dry Up” is another oxymoronic celebration of sadness alternating whispy Victorian regret with surprising vocal and instrumental vehemence.  Klug is a clever wordsmith with unexpected rhymes, shifts, and dodges.

And so it goes, one great song after another. 

***

#7: Curtains for You –  What a Lovely Surprise to Wake up Here

Lilting melodies, soaring harmonies, and a liquid lead guitar that strokes the hypothalamus producing waves of pure pleasure land this Seattle quintet in the Top Ten.  Like Explorers Club they mine the Beach Boys for inspiration but have a unique sound built around killer songs and Mikey Gervais’ sinewy guitar.  I wish they’d mixed the vocals a little more upfront.  Some lyrics remain opaque.  Mikey and Matt Gervais with Nick Holman (b) and Peter Fedofsky (k) have an undeniable Everly Brothers vibe. 

The first four songs are joyous celebrations of all things hooky, building one on another into an stoppable locomotive of power pop which barely slows for the plaintive “Chain Link Fence.”  “Dumb Angel” is an instant classic, as is this record.  

***

#8: Paul Steel — MoonRock 

This record begins on such an impossibly high note it would seem impossible to sustain at album length.  And Paul Steel doesn’t quite make it but his sheer pop exuberance coupled with impressive compositional skills makes MoonRock one of the year’s most exciting releases.  “In a Coma” begins with irresistible hand claps, great tonic and a hook that ratchets up the tension.  Steel stacks vocals into towering harmonic wedding cakes.

The coda to “Moon Rock” is so overwrought as to overshadow the song, but the next song, “Oh No! Oh Yeah!” more than makes up for it with pop smarts, soaring harmonies and a honkin’ kazoo section.  “Summer Song” is a bittersweet entry in the languid, end-of-summer blues similar to the Beach Boys’ “The Warmth of the Sun” or Scott Sax’ “I Am the Summer Time.” 

***

#9: Lamar Holley — Confessions of a College Student 

Lamar Holley’s musical-on-a-disc dedicated to the trials and travails of a first year college student contains several jaw-dropping mini-suites.  “Biology” is a twelve course feast in itself, a mid-tempo winner about what the narrator’s really thinking about in a boring biology class.  The record’s mostly about girls—how to get them, how to lose them, their un-obtainability.

Holley’s got that Tin Pan Alley. vibe which yields well-balanced songs.  He never cuts loose or rocks out, but charms with melody and crystalline arrangements.  “Secretly” pines languidly to an oblivious girl, steel pedal guitar echoing the singer’s anguish.

“Madame Shamrock” is so rich in harmonic variation you may wish to consume it in tiny bites, like triple XXX dark chocolate.  Holley has stumbled onto a set of harmonics that affect the lizard brain.  It is difficult to stop listening.  You may play this song all day.  A fire could start and you wouldn’t notice.  While there’s nothing else here that matches “Shamrock,” there is plenty to thrill.

Great production too. 

***

#10: Vinyl Candy – Land 

Land, a “rock opera” about an aspiring musician, presents a compelling narrative through an elegant succession of mini pop masterpieces that segue from one to the next.  “All Along the Way” is typical of Vinyl Candy in that it which eschews the familiar first, fourth and fifth chords in favor of something fresher and more jazz-like.  It’s not jazz—it’s fist-pumping rock with blistering guitars and intricate harmonies.  But Vinyl Candy’s distinctive songwriting skills accompanied by monstrous guitar swirls give them a unique sound, one that does not suggest Jellyfish.  Vinyl Candy sound more homogeneous, more straight-ahead rock without Jellyfish’s charming eccentricity. 

Vinyl Candy occupies a sweet spot all their own, each song an intricate mosaic of brilliant chords, musicianship and singing.  Listened to all at once they tend to blend into each other.  Listened to individually they sparkle.   Vinyl Candy also shows what can be done with album art in a small package, although I would dearly love access to the lyrics, either through an insert on online. 

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#11: The High Dials — Moon Country 

Insanely ambitious psychedelic twofer from the Montreal quartet incorporating their whole arsenal of buzzing guitars, stacked vocals and Zombie-like song structures.  The guitar riff that opens “(Do the) Memory Lapse” attaches itself to your brain like the Alien face hugger.  With songs like “Killer of Dragons” and “Oison my Bastard Brother” the meaning is sometimes obscure but the breadth and the scope of the music are enormous.

At turns mesmerizing and threatening, Moon Country is as vast and mysterious as an undiscovered continent.  The standing here doesn’t really reflect the quality of the music but the competition this year has been ferocious.  The package is awful—a double cardboard sleeve from which the discs tumble every time you look at it, dark, muddy lettering and a cover painting that looks like a misprint.  Produced “with the participation of the government of Canada (Canada Music Fund.”  At least the Canucks know how to spend their stimulus money. 

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#12: Jeff Litman – Postscript 

Heartfelt, personal and extremely melodic debut needs no lyric sheet because of the upfront intimacy of Litman’s voice.  Acoustic power through excellent song structure—listen to “Complicate” and “Open Arms,” material that recalls Josh Rouse ca. 1972.

Kelly Jones joins Litman for “Maine.”

There is a right not specifically spelled out in the Bill of Rights but implicit in every restriction on the federal government: the right to be left alone.  Our nation was founded by individuals seeking relief from overbearing governments and religions.  Rugged individualism isn’t merely a conceit of John Wayne movies.  It has been and will continue to be a way of life for Americans who believe this nation was founded on the rights of the individual.  Not the rights of government.

Yet today we are saddled with the most overbearing, intrusive government in American history, a gang of socialist ideologues who seek to exercise control over every facet of human existence including our food, the education of our children, and our exercise habits.  People may argue where this urge to control the lives of others originates, but there can be no doubt that the present administration does not see individual liberties when they look at the constitution.  They see the governments’ rights and the subjects’ obligations.  They have turned the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights on its ear.

They see individuals only in terms of how much money they can squeeze from each citizen.  This government reminds me of Zieffer Meird, the intergalactic slaver from my science fiction comic Nexus.  Zieffer captured people, decapitated them, and found a way to keep the heads alive to use as batteries.  Obama would like to be Zeiffer Meird.  He seeks to silence the individual.  Shut up and pay your taxes.  The only voices to whom he will listen are groups: the trial lawyers, SEIU, UAW, ACORN, the usual suspects.

Never the individual.  Always the group.

Bad news for Pharoah.  Most Americans see themselves as individuals, save for those benighted creatures who traded their souls for lifelong government employment.  (I except my hard-working sister who has been a devoted climatologist since 1973.  We disagree about “climate change.”)  Government is the only area with jobs growth and most of those jobs are to facilitate either the collection of taxes or the doling out of pork to special groups under the guise of “stimulus.”

What “progressives” fail to understand is that the reason the United States is the greatest nation on earth is because of individual effort in the private sector.  All our wealth, our ability to field armies, deliver disaster relief, build schools and highways comes from money earned in the private sector.  Yet these fools continue to grow the public sector like a giant cancer on the shoulders of every American left out of the government gravy train.

So I’m positing a very old party: the Leave Me Alone party.  I’m happy to pay taxes if they are reasonable and they go toward legitimate government functions as spelled out in the Constitution and limited in the Bill of Rights.  But I’ll be damned if I’m going to be forced to pony up to provide some government drone a luxurious retirement.

The Republicans could become the Leave Me Alone party, but that would require some deep soul-searching on their part.  In the meantime, millions of Americans will vote like me, searching for a ray of light in the shit storm of government growth, bureaucracy and parasitism.

The Shazam are part of the underground independent pop scene, the guys who gather for the Charlottesville Power Pop Festival, International Pop Overthrow, or SXSW.  Shazam have been with Not Lame since 1999’s masterful Godspeed the Shazam.  Meteor is the first disc Not Lame has produced in three years, not counting their annual International Pop Overthrow compilations. Meteor is a titanic yawp of hard rock anthems alternating with hooks so sweet they take your breath away.  Hans Rotenberry, who wrote and sings the songs, has carved a unique and immediately identifiable style from hard rock dynamics crossed with his sweet, supple voice. 

“So Awesome” opens the record with a twenty-one guitar salute to the joy of living, lead guitar as hard and elegant as the Golden Gate Bridge.  “Don’t Look Down” is a power ballad with every lick carved in stone.  You could climb the notes like a staircase.  Rotenberry’s vocals are winsome and masterful, going from cooed aside to anthemic bellow in a heartbeat.  “Disco at the Fairground” is the best Move song the Move never recorded.  Alternating sinister, earth-chewing minor chords with drunken sailor music hall choruses it crunches euphorically.  Zappa would approve. 

“A Little Better” is a self-improvement song that might have come off Workingman’s Dead with a harder rock edge.  “Always Tomorrow” is one of those bittersweet masterpieces built around a simple repeating guitar motif overlaid with Rotenberry’s pliant vocals filled with inchoate longing as is all great pop. 

“Let it Fly” is an emotionally potent paean to hope harking back to “Squeeze the Day” from Tomorrow the World.  The hushed beginning telegraphs its hortatory heart before that heavy bass cuts in.  The chorus with its muffled kettledrums sends chills down your spine.  This is life affirming rock that will have you grabbing an invisible Telecaster and yelling “YEAH!” 

“Hey Mom I Got the Bomb” contains the lyric:

I got The Bomb, yeah I got The Bomb
If you don’t think I’ll use it you’re ridiculously wrong 

You really have to hear this to get the full effect. 

“Time For Pie,” the closer, is a distillation of every great arena rock guitar solo you ever heard.

As far as I know you can only order the record from www.theshazam.com and www.notlame.com.  Should be available from cdbaby.com shortly.  You won’t hear about the Shazam in Rolling Stone or Spin.  You won’t hear them on Big Radio, certainly not on MTV or VH-1.  The Shazam are merely the tip of the iceberg.  And the hardest part of the iceberg too.

Straight sex, gay, bi, group, it doesn’t matter to the sexually omnivorous Susan whose libido knows no bounds. In her most asinine encounter, which becomes key to “world peace,” Susan pulls a train of skinhead Nazis who quickly see the light, accept their “bi-curious” strains and copulate with her and one another. Thereafter, anyone who views her sex tape becomes one with the world and all living things. And “Kumbaya” was heard in the land.  

La Muse intends to be a serious look at the consequences of absolute power but views the world through a politically-correct lens that sets your teeth on edge. People naturally fear and hate her. After one of numerous assassination attempts, La Muse’s Boswell, her sister Libby, writes, “It was another bunch of zealots trying to kill her. Jihadists, anti-abortionists, anti-gay activists (though she’s not gay), intelligent design fanatics, the KKK, Neo-Nazis, you name it, they want her dead.”  

Who’s missing from the above laundry list of traditional liberal bugaboos? That’s right.  Liberals. No liberal ever wants anyone dead (unless it’s Rush Limbaugh or Clarence Thomas.) 

Libby’s an agent for a big shot talent agency. Naturally La Muse becomes an international celebrity and cover model. There’s a lot of inside industry talk. La Muse does interviews.  Someone asks if she believes in God. “Really, I just don’t believe there’s a guy in the sky with a beard who hates gays.” At least not since the last time the Ayatollah Khomeni took an airplane. Chapter 2 is called “Enter the Haters.” 

La Muse goes on the lecture tour. “Let’s get rid of predatory capitalism, not capitalism per se. There hasn’t been a free market for decades! The corporations have been fixing it!  Decapitalization is the way to go! Rewrite capitalism so it works properly! Wealth gets redistributed by the market!” Once again a deep thinker betrays a lack of understanding about basic economics. It’s easy to rail against evil corporations-and so fresh! But where is the understanding that all modern blessings, the miracle drugs that prolong life, air-conditioning, television, the Internet, cars that allow us to cross continents in a few days, the wealth that permits government social programs, are all generated by the private sector? Has our culture become so debased that young people automatically absorb the smarmy assumptions of the liberal sea in which they are forced to swim?    

I believe writer Adi Tantimedh is English, so I don’t hold him responsible for his lousy education. England seems to have gone the way of the Dodo bird. Tantimedh does have some good ideas and some good lines. La Muse’s decision to declare herself an independent country inspires thousands of others. That would be great if the focus were on individual rights and liberties, but La Muse only addresses tribes. Her parents show up and turn out to be inscrutably evil aliens.  

Susan has only two speeds: full-bore overbearing alpha, and sob-sister. Neither personality is particularly appealing. The key to compelling fiction is to create sympathetic characters with whom the audience can identify.  

Artist Hugo Petrus is a mixed bag, good with faces and often quite engaging, as in the full page spread of La Muse stopping a charging taxi on page 33. Elsewhere he fails to provide establishing shots and many of the characters begin to look alike. 

Remarkably, the publisher and editor, Big Head Press (they are also my publisher,) are committed Libertarians! Editor Scott Bieser admits he anticipated a conservative backlash to the book, but that should not dissuade readers from seeking out their other publications, including The Probability Broach and Roswell, Texas by L. Neil Smith and Scott Bieser (who is a terrific artist,) and The Architect by yours truly.

I would love to see Adam Lambert join Queen.  I already know all the songs.  And that’s a problem.  Singer/songwriters have been moving off-grid since the nineties.  With the demise of the major music conglomerates, innovative talent understands it’s up to them to record and release their own material.  The internet makes this possible.  No one knows the extent of the effect downloading has had on the music industry, but if we are to judge from the reaction, it has been devastating.  The Recording Institute Association of America has brought suits against parents whose children illegally download songs.

The music press that used to serve a vast range of interests is dying.  No Depression and Blender bit the dust last year.  Paste is asking its readers for financial contributions.  Rolling Stone and Spin long ago gave up covering innovative grass-roots rock in favor of the ever-dwindling supply of “mainstream” acts.  Rolling Stone now resembles an uncomfortable cross between The Nation and Vanity Fair.

The remaining music rags seem to be involved in a conspiracy to cover the same artists.  How else to explain the simultaneous cover appearances of such bands as Vampire Weekend, Connor Oberst, and Bat for Lashes?  These are the “official,” industry sanctioned “edgy artists.”  Trouble is, all these music venues are waiting for someone else to sanction an artist before they’re interested.  They are missing the forest for the trees.

The internet and home recording obviate the need for Big Music.  Yes, having some edgy TV show choose a song off your record can be a career-maker (The Fray, anyone?), but somebody has to hear that song first and have the power to use it.  So let me tell you what’s been going on in the pop underground this year.  Like last year and the year before it, 2009 is shaping up as one of the most exciting pop music years ever.  It’s early June and I’ve been stunned with the breadth and quality of releases thus far.

Campbell Stokes Sunshine Recorder: Makes Your Ears Smile.  Andy Morten, formerly of The Nerve and Bronco Bullfrog has recorded a masterpiece of summer pop that is simultaneously simple and liltingly complex.  Andy Morten made all the sounds himself.  The closest precedent might by the Dukes of Stratosphere (XTC) who donned the mantle of psychedelic warriors to record songs that echoed their inspirations.  Morten is an excellent singer and an inspired composer.

Roger Klug: More Help For Your Nerves. Two years ago power pop aficionados were gob-smacked by Bryan Scary’s debut which displayed superb musicianship, terrific dynamics and strong songwriting.  Last year it was Josh Fix.  This year it’s Roger Klug whose More Help For Your Nerves opens with “Tinnitus,” an ear blast comparable to Greg Pope’s “Sky Burn Down.”  This disc is an embarrassment of riches clocking in at just under an hour with 17 tracks.  None of them are throwaways.  Klug’s mostly a one-man band with inspiration up to his ears and a voice that hints at hidden cabaret chops.

The second song, “Dump Me Hard,” announces that this is an artist who’s got it going on in every department.  Every song is a standout although I would single out “For the Kids” for its bittersweet poignancy.  And it’s not just verse/verse/chorus/verse.  Klug breaks it up as in “About Time” which segues from upbeat pop to exuberant bluegrass before falling back into a hard rock groove.  Mental Giant, his music label, is just Klug.

Broken Promise Keeper: Ice Cold Pop.  Another one man band.  Seldom have I heard such a strong debut of songs.  As powerful and memorable as Marshall Crenshaw.  Rob Stuart possesses an effortless musicality that affords his songs good bones-the changes, choruses and bridges are both surprising and inevitable.  Stuart has a radio friendly voice and the songs segue from one to the next.  Superb dynamics-one listen and you’re hooked.

The opener “Directions” with its insanely catchy hook contains the lyrics: “Change – new scenery sure would be nice/Change – but before we turn, let’s think twice/‘Cause when you take that fork in the road/ It helps to know where you’re trying to go.” Hmmm….

Greg Pope: Pete.  Pete’s an extended play-seven songs-but they hit with the impact of last year’s triumphant Popmonster, which perched at the top of most Ten Best last year.  And here’s something the music dinosaurs can only dream about: Greg recorded these songs in March and April and the CD, with beautiful cover art, came out in May.  This type of inspiration to market in two months occurs because the lone singer/songwriter doesn’t have to wait for the suits’ approval.

Valley Lodge: Semester at Sea Second release from New York-based rock quartet jangles and buzzes its way from start to finish with delicious hooks, unique vocal choruses and great dynamics.  Highly reminiscent of Plimsouls, if slightly more sophisticated.

There is more.  Much more.  These independent releases are coming at the rate of about four or five a day.  That’s over a thousand records a year.  The music is infinitely better than what Big Music seeks to cram down our throats, yet one will search in vain for any mention of the above bands-or the hundreds of others of similar vein-in the traditional music press.  So what’s a pop fan to do?

There are numerous websites devoted to power pop.  My favorites are Absolute Powerpop, popaholic.com, and of course notlame.com, which in addition to being a label (The Toms, The Well Wishers, The Shazam) acts as a clearinghouse for all these great new bands….

Two notes: A lot of these bands are releasing their CDs in simple cardboard sleeves.  You can get all the info you want on the back of one of these, and if the band chooses to print lyrics, such as Fastball, cardboard sleeves come in fold-outs like miniature versions of deluxe LP sleeves, which allow for more art.  This is a big step up from the odious plastic jewel box.  It’s also a big step back.  This is the way 45’s and LPs used to come.

The second note is that if you contact these artists via their websites, most of them will talk to you.  Try e-mailing Gwen Stefani.