Hi, Everyone! Man, rigor mortis had just about set in after I finished the liner notes for a project on Sundazed Records called Magic Time: The Millennium/Ballroom Recordings. This 3 CD set contains the entire Ballroom album (which wasn't released at the time of its recording in 1966), several previously unreleased Ballroom tracks, the classic Begin album by The Millennium, several previously unreleased Millennium tracks, and lots of single mixes and backing tracks by both bands. The common thread connecting The Ballroom and The Millennium is the songwriting and production chops of Curt Boettcher, who also led another band of the time, Sagittarius. This collection is soft pop at its best, folks, and is the perfect combination of yin and yang, with Boettcher's childlike visions competing with some lysergic fun. My liner notes run about 8,500 words, but I guess that's commensurate with 3 CDs worth of music. I couldn't have done it without the help of the surviving members of both bands (Boettcher sadly passed away in 1987), who offered some choice reminiscences, as well as the insights of Dawn Eden, who has a store of information on Boettcher equal to the baseball skills of Babe Ruth. Anyway, I hope you purchase the package, which is scheduled for a late April release.

The Rosenbergs have employed a novel approach to marketing with the release of their new CD, Mission: You. Everyone who purchases a copy also gets a second copy to "share with a friend". Now, some cynics among you might scoff at this, saying that the band is taking money out of their own pockets by giving away free CDs. Me, I think it's a great idea: the chances are good that most of the "friends" who will get a free copy of the CD are people who wouldn't have heard of The Rosenbergs, much less bought their CD, so those people will be exposed to music they almost surely would not have been. This will create new fans for The Rosenbergs, and when the band's next album comes out, these people will have been primed to buy it. A very ingenious maneuver, but one that can only work if the artist has the musical chops to pull it off. Fortunately, The Rosenbergs do, as Mission: You is one damn fine power pop album!

As I write this, I'm listening to the upcoming album by Maple Mars, a project by Los Angeles artist Rick Hromadka, who used to be the main man for the band Double Naught Spies. The album is called Wireless, and man, it's excellent, reminding me a lot of what Cloud Eleven might sound like without all the phasing and other studio tricks. Of course, the presence of Cloud Eleven mastermind Rick Gallego on this album may have something to do with that. At any rate, it's an album that pop fans are definitely going to want to have, so look out for it!

People are always pointedly asking me, "Bash, don't you ever write a negative review??" The answer my friend, is that I subscribe to the old chestnut that if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all. If I choose to review a disc, I always try to put a positive spin on it, and I make sure that both the reader and the artist know that I have thoroughly listened to the disc by pointing out specific nuances. If I do say something negative, it's always offered in the form of what I believe to be constructive criticism. In any event, my slew of positive reviews have given people the impression that I like everything I hear. This couldn't be further from the truth; as a journalist, I receive scads of CDs, most of which are things that don't do anything for me. For every CD I review there are three I won't, and some of these I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. So, those artists whose CDs I write about, along with those artists who are accepted to play at International Pop Overthrow, can be assured that I see them as being among the crème de la crème in today's pop music scene.

Half of my heritage is from Israel, as my Dad was born there, and most of that side of the family still lives there. Among my fondest memories are having my Bar Mitzvah in Israel, at the old temple where my father and grandfather attended services, and I have long been hoping for a great pop band from Israel to emerge. Well, one has! They're called Rockfour, and their latest CD, Supermarket, is chock full of amazing chord changes. The band has some pronounced prog leanings in their pop, so if you're enamored of that style, as I am, you'll love this CD. As soon as I heard it (thanks to Brian Kassan for turning me on to these guys!) I contacted the band and invited them to IPO. Soon afterward, I got a call from their manager, who expressed interest in having them attend. He's going to try and work out some huge logistical particulars, and I for one am hoping he can. It would truly be an honor for me to introduce these guys at this year's IPO.

On Friday, March 30, Jason Falkner will be doing a Living Room show at the home of a good friend of mine, and I can't wait! Besides being one of the best songwriters to ever walk the face of this planet, Falkner's free and easy rapport with his fans make a living room the perfect millieu for him. There is only room for 40 people at this show, and organizer Gail George had the uneviable task of choosing those 40 from the more than 100 who requested to be in attendance. She was forced to use the dreaded lottery system, and kudos should go to her for a job well done. There's no doubt that this show will be one of the highlights of the year for those who attend.

That's all for now, folks, but before I go I want to again give my most heartfelt thanks to all of the artists and fans who will be attending IPO this year. I can't tell you how much it all means to me! Thanks should also go to Ken West, who has offered to maintain the IPO site this year, and to Olaf Folta, who along with Ken will be giving the site a whole new (and very cool) look. Stay tuned!!!

Hello again.

It's your humble cyber-popdude, pleased as punch to be back in action at this cool new pop stop. It'll be much like my ramblings at Alan Haber's old site: just my big 'ol goofy thoughts about pop 'n' stuff. So please, no snotty e-mails if I happen to diss your fave rave or even (heaven forbid) your band, k? It's just my 'lil 'ol opinion, and gee, it's probably way off base anyway. Besides, snotty e-mails make me cry. Having said that, let's jump right in with both feet with some reviews with grades. Well, the reviews aren't graded, it's the music that's….ah, you know what I mean…

Kenny Howes/The Right Idea---Having witnessed the power and the fury that is a Kenny Howes show, I'm here to say that this dude is absolutely one of the most electric live performers around. I'm also here to say that I find the majority of the stuff on his albums, with a few exceptions, rather lacking. Said exceptions are included on this here compilation of tracks from Kenny's first three CD's: the beyond-groovin' "Girls With Glasses," the Beatley "Thought You'd Never Go" and the early Who-like "Easy On the Eye." Most of the rest of the stuff here just misses, whether it's retro moves such as "The Right Idea," sleepy ballads like "Double Bed" or downright bad songs like "Impressive" (it's not very). B-

Deathray Davies/Return of the Drunk Ventriloquist---Okay, I was intrigued by their Kinky name, less intrigued by their Guided By Voices-like sound, but still amused by song titles like "Chinese Checkers and Devo Records" and "Behave You Silly Freaks." Average stuff. C-

Fuzzbubble/Fuzzbubble---The first two tracks on this powerfully poppy platter sound like how early Cheap Trick might have sounded had Robin Zander developed an affinity for gargling with shards of glass. Things calm down after that and get quite good, actually, in a Cheap Trick-cum-Redd Kross kinda way. "Don't Let it Get You Down" is a pop sureshot, while the "la-la-la's" on "Big Time Nowhere" kill me, as does this bit of lyrical coolness: "Everyday I write my book/"The Life and Times of Stupid." B

The Ringles/Dish Full of Ringles---Sounding not unlike a rough-hewn version of Shoes (instrumentally, anyway), these Illinois boys offer a couple of outstanding songs: "Mary Go Round" and "Jennifer Love." Elsewhere, they essay a bit of psychedelia here, a Michael Mazzarella impersonation there and even a bit of Byrdsy jangle. Docked a notch for adding a tune called "Googalick Boop Day." I mean, being a little cutesy is OK, but COME ON… B-

Superscope/Girls Smile, Girls Talk---A meaty three-song CD EP from one of Australia's lesser-known (but still outstanding) power pop combos. "Girls Smile" speeds along quite handsomely with crunchy guitars and a delicious melody, while a cover of Elvis Costello's "Girls Talk" sounds super as well. Typically wonderful Aussie power pop as seemingly only Aussies can do it. A-

The Tories/Upside of Down---If pop is ever gonna move beyond its current cult status, bands like The Tories will no doubt be the ones waving the flag high and hard. These guys have it all: a radio-ready sound, looks, chops and songs, songs and more songs. On their second album they play up their outstanding harmony singing on tracks like "Superconductor" (perhaps the best cut here) and the closing ballad "All the World's For Sale," while they rock out on "Time For You" and play it overtly poppy on the swingin', swayin' "Everything's Coming Up You." One of the best records of the year thus far. A

The Davenports/Speaking of the Davenports---You say you're jonesin' for a new Fountains of Wayne release? Well, look no further, chum, 'cause the Davenports are here to more than fill the gap with this excellent disc that sounds more than a little like the best of FOW. 12 way cool cuts, including gems such as "Object in the Mirror" (great drumming), "Keep Me Far Away From Gary" (nice slow one), "Heather's A Genius" (pure pop bliss) and "I'll Come Down" (superb vocal performance from head Davenport Scott Klass). A

The Jigsaw Seen/Zenith---Any album that includes such sterling pop numbers as "Letter to the Editor," "Celebrity Interview" and "Girl on a Red Velvet Swing" is worthy not only of your attention, but your hard-earned dough. Mature rockin' pop in the best sense of the term. A-

Nikki & the Corvettes/Nikki & the Corvettes---A Bomp Records reissue of late '70s/early '80s femme pop that's a bit punky, always poppy and definitely a hell of a lot of fun. Young Nikki and her Corvettes race through 16 numbers with titles like "Back Seat Love," "Boys, Boys, Boys" and "He's A Mover" with guitars and hormones raging, almost single-handedly inventing a new musical sub-genre called slut rock. Is it hot in here or is it me? A-

The Finkers/Double Back & Go---More ridiculously catchy classically styled power pop (think The Beat, Plimsouls, etc.) from Australia, produced and (mainly) sung by the ridiculously talented Michael Carpenter. "Last Thing On My Mind," "100 Watt Ronson" and "Up To You" are all killer, while the sweet 'n' jangly "Teenage Crush" brings a tear or three to this crusty old journalist's eye… A-

The Shazam/Rev 9---I really can't explain to you why The Shazam is so great. Could be because (like Richard X. Heyman, Tommy Keene and Bill Lloyd) Hans Rotenberry's never written a bad song. Maybe it's because Hans is so damned strange (that's a compliment, believe you me); who else would dare to cover The Beatles' "Revolution 9," I ask you? Perhaps it's the Move and Cheap Trick influences that seep into The Shazam's music, which still sounds wholly original. Maybe it's all of the above or none of the above, I dunno. What I do know is that this is another big step forward in the continuing evolution of one of the U.S.'s finest POWER pop bands. A

See ya'll next month!

When I was doing my Pure Pop radio show, I pretty much steered clear of playing remakes or new recordings by sixties and seventies bands that had gotten back together after a long layoff, with or without all the original members.

There is a good reason for this. Many "updated" versions of favorite bands pale in comparison to the originals, and there really doesn't ever seem to be a pressing need to re-record a hit record—other than to perhaps get control of the publishing. And, since one tends to file a Xeroxed original recording in the back regions of one's memory, copies—however well performed—seem to always be a bit transparent.
That said, sometimes you get lucky, or at least partially so. The Association, right up there with the Beatles and the Beach Boys in my book, sort of shine on Ten Best, released last year on the Purple Pyramid label—sort of, because the various parts of this record are kind of at odds with each other.

First of all, the cover shows the original Association from the sixties, the one that included bassist Brian Cole. So, we are to assume, I assume, that the music on Ten Best is indeed performed by the original group. After a few listens, I am pretty much convinced that this is true. I have a videotape of the original group appearing on The Mike Douglas Entertainment Hour, minus Cole, in 1981 (the only non-original member was keyboard player Ric Ulsky). The Association on Ten Best doesn't sound much different.

What you get on this budget-priced disc are remakes of "Windy," "Along Comes Mary," "Never My Love," "Goodbye Columbus" (mistakenly called "It's a Lucky Day," which is actually a lyric from the song), and "Cherish." You also get covers of the Captain and Tennille's "Do That to Me One More Time," Rod Stewart's "You're In My Heart," Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are," and Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely." Not even worth mentioning, but here I go anyway, is the "Millennium Remix 2000" of "Windy," which is utter crap.

For the rest of the 34:17 running time, though, you get the usual, wonderful Association vocals, not, perhaps, at the top of the group's game, but many cuts above any and all pretenders. You also get rather bland instrumentation, and way too much of what I call porno saxophone, which sounds like it comes straight off the soundtrack of one of those icky adult films.

So, a mixed bag to be sure, but if you can tune out the saxophone and the bland instrumentation, this is an at least acceptable offering from one of the top harmony groups that pop has ever offered. The group, which still has two original members (Russ Giguere and Larry Ramos, Jr.), performs about 150 dates a year. Might make a decent night out.

GUESS WHO? Another group that enjoyed hit-after-hit status all those years ago has reappeared (however temporarily), and in its original incarnation, to boot. There is no news of a studio album—at least none that I've heard—but there is this nifty aural document of a Canadian reunion tour from last summer. Running Back Thru Canada, a 22 track, 2-CD release on Vik through BMG Canada, shows Burton Cummings, Randy Bachman, Garry Peterson, Donnie McDougall, and Bill Wallace to still be at the top of their game as the Guess Who. Recorded live with no overdubs, this is a fun collection that kicks off with a rocking "Runnin' Back to Saskatoon," includes "These Eyes" and "Laughing," and a host of favorites like "Rain Dance" and "Clap for the Wolfman." Take it from one person who usually hates live albums—this is the real deal.

HOLY HOLLY DAYS! Paul McCartney's solo album from 1976—er, I mean, Denny Laine's solo album from 1976, Holly Days, has finally made it onto CD, courtesy of the fine folks at France's Magic Records. Essentially a Macca solo disc (he played most of the instruments, sang backgrounds and produced), this is a fun run through 10 Buddy Holly songs that was unjustly ignored on its initial release. Magic has remastered in high-definition 24 bit with spectacular, loud results. Highly recommended.

BAG O' SWAG. What happens when members of Wilco, Cheap Trick, Sixpence None the Richer, and the great Doug Powell connect to record an album? You get a love letter to sixties pop called catch-all. Every song is killer. Catch-all would merit a mention in this column even if the Phil Spectorish, Jerry Dale McFadden-sung bopper "Louise," complete with timpani and strings, were the only song here. The highest of recommendations.

THE ORGONE BOX. This basically one-man-show, recorded, if memory serves, in 1994, and initially released on a limited basis in Japan, is an affectionate look back at sixties pop in all its wonderful forms. Chock full of beautiful, thick harmonies, and a solid melodic sensibility, The Orgone Box proves Box man Rick Corcoran has it going on. Hats off to Bill Forsyth from London's famed Minus Zero Records, for releasing this gem.

More sixties and seventies nuggets next month.

Sixties and seventies pop, and current artists nodding to those good old days, are covered in this column each month. Submissions for records to be reviewed should be directed to zoogang@bellatlantic.net. Alan Haber was the host of the Pure Pop radio show and editor and publisher of the Pure Pop web site. He also loves sixties and seventies pop.

Athletes rarely know when to leave the arena. Driven by ego, insecurity (what else do I know how to do?) and money, most hang on past their prime, surviving on reputation and the hope (by the owners) that a resurgence in talent could reap more rewards. Occasionally, the rare gem will defy Father Time; Nolan Ryan pitched at a superhuman level into his forties before his arm finally gave out in a sudden burst. His conditioning, awareness and drive allowed him to maintain a career that was equal parts creativity and quality entertainment. But for every Ryan there are a hundred Willie Mays and Dwight Goodens, sadly trying to hang on long after their abilities gave way; mere mortals – or sub-mortals – in a gladiator's game. Veteran players were heralded for their experience and leadership, and even given the benefit of the doubt if they walked the talent tightrope, eventually younger stronger players would push them out of the way…with a small push from today's beancounter owners, of course.

Musicians don't have the luxury of having their physical essence tell them the time – unless you're counting singers here – but they do have to work for a brutal breed of owner. Back “in the day”, labels would discover, sign and nurture an artist's career, carefully tending the fire to make sure art (albeit profitable art) had a voice. Musicians were an investment, and one bad “season” would not necessitate getting dumped on the waiver wire. But today's economics dictate otherwise. Seeking fireworks displays rather than fires, discovering an artist now translates into a milk carton search across the world – “Have You Seen This (Type Of) Band?” – because we all know that there's no better ticket to success in Disney's America than a sequel. And hey, if it's animated, so much the better.

Much like baseball has transcended from “sport” to “entertainment”, so too has the music industry morphed from “music” to “industry”. This is not stop-the-presses news – it's been going on for thirty years – but two generations have now grown up in the Age Of Music Consultants, where the library of wonderful exploration has been reduced to a twelve-pack of Cliffs Notes. The rosters are smaller, the owners less tolerant, and if you don't produce immediately, you're gone. So many don't even ever get the chance to make the “team”, because the roster of today doesn't consider experience, potential or even good tools. Now talented players must give way to the ones who can get the biggest endorsements. For example, “boy bands” are the designated hitters of music – they can't run or field, but they can get hits (albeit with someone else's equipment).

So maybe you're okay with that. Check, please! I'll have the valet get your minivan right away.

Well, I'm not okay with that. I'm bitter that radio used to be an altruistic experience is now a tightly wound pile of crap. I'm saddened that many worthy musicians were born too late to get their shot at a decent living pursuing their art and are forced to compromise their schedule (read: Day Job) or have hung up their spikes. I'm frustrated when I hear a piece of absolute shit like Madonna's “Music” being touted as musical genius, when Superdrag's In The Valley Of Dying Stars and Michael Carpenter's Hopefulness fall on mostly deaf ears. I'm compelled to write for a lot of reasons, but championing the underdog seems to be the battle I find myself fighting most often.

That's not to say that every veteran act is out there producing like Nolan Ryan. Just like the ballplayers who hang on for the money, there are tons of bands who are riding the Baby Boomer Reunion Circuit, playing fairs and casinos in search of your nostalgia dollar. God knows we never need to see Loverboy put on those goddamned headbands again, and if REO Speedwagon ever gets a Behind The Music episode it's time to make like Elvis and shoot the television. (And you just knew that BTM, like Unplugged before it, would stop being a good idea and turn into a way for major labels to market greatest hits and live records, now didn't you? No? Uh…valet, please!)

Beyond the Journey and Styx horizon lie some true warriors who deserve better. Cheap Trick, years removed from their commercial heyday, didn't wake each other up at the accounting firm and try to squeeze into the ol' spandex to cash in on nostalgia. Nope – these guys are a band, and they've been out there bashing away in clubs because they still have the fire to do so. Ian Hunter has crafted some of his most wonderful work over the last ten years but has done so in obscurity, because radio doesn't know what to do with him unless they play “All The Young Dudes” (and that would be hip for America!). Graham Parker's wit is as acerbic as ever, and his voice has never been better; think he can sell records? Even Matthew Sweet, a relative youngster on this team, has a catalogue of pop nuggets that dwarfs the creative output of most other artists over the past decade. Yet at best, he is a cult artist. Ditto many other worthy vets like Richard Thompson, Warren Zevon, Loudon Wainwright III (like Mark “The Bird” Fidrych, one brilliant season in the majors, with “Dead Skunk” is the only thing on his baseball card in most circles)

The Grammy Awards have started to show their colors and shower grandparents like Clapton, Raitt and Santana with awards as if to apologize or recognize a career. Even the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame looks to recognize the safe codgers if they can. (Until I see the eligible Ramones inducted, the HOF is a sham. But I digress.) But who will recognize the players who weren't canonized as megastars, yet deserve our praise for their heart and their sacrifice?

I will. And you will too, I hope.

Of course we have to continue to find and develop our own rookies. Drive the blue line roads, hit the small clubs, check out those web stations, swap mix tapes with friends, spend an hour exploring an MP3 site. Tout those Tories and Montgomery Cliffs and Cherry Twisters, because without you they are in big trouble. But don't discount the crafty veterans, either. Sure, there are the Neil Youngs and Bowies and Springsteens who survived intact and solvent. But we've got to find those Nolan Ryans in the music world while they're out there, still playing, still producing. We've lost too many too soon - Ronson, Marriott, Lane, Bolan, Ham, Lynott, Zappa; the list is endless, and yours is as poignant as mine. We've got to sidestep the corporate radar, fly underneath it, and show them the love. After all, when all is said and done, it's your two ears and your wallet.