Various Artists
Poptopia! Power Pop Classics of the '70s (Rhino)
Poptopia! Power Pop Classics of the '80s (Rhino)
Poptopia! Power Pop Classics of the '90s (Rhino)
by Marc Hirsh
Various Artists
Poptopia! Power Pop Classics of the '70s (Rhino)
Poptopia! Power Pop Classics of the '80s (Rhino)
Poptopia! Power Pop Classics of the '90s (Rhino)
by Marc Hirsh
originally published in Space City Rock, Spring 1999
Power pop junkies are a proud bunch: proud of our history, proud of our future (the latter, of course, very closely resembles the former). It is with us in mind that Rhino (as always, the finest of music-snob reissue labels) offers three CDs of Poptopia!, one disc for each of the last three decades of power pop. If it's an accurate snapshot (and the not-quite-aboveground nature of the music makes it hard to really tell), then I guess things are back on track after a smooth start and a bumpy second act.
The '70s disc is the optimal place to start, but it also demonstrates the flaws in the reissue game: a good hunk of this stuff is available on other Rhino compilations (including the DIY series), and any power popper worth his skinny tie already has the Big Star, Todd Rundgren and Nick Lowe songs on their original albums. But what songs they are! Kick off with the sheer oomph of the Raspberries' "Go All The Way," and watch how the band refused to allow then-leader Eric Carmen's being a total pussy to stand in the way of rocking out. Many of the songs are gimmes, like Big Star's "September Gurls" (duh), the Flamin' Groovies' blueprint-sketching "Shake Some Action," (double duh) and Bram Tchaikovsky's oft-maligned, never-bettered "Girl Of My Dreams" (come on, people!), but a few surprises lurk: a forgotten Badfinger cut, the Knack's damn near pornographic "Good Girls Don't" (I can see why it was a hit but not how they ever got it on the radio) and 20/20's "Yellow Pills," a rare early example of synthesizers sneaking their way into what was otherwise two guitars, bass, drums. Probably not necessary for the connoisseur, but an excellent introduction to the curious.
The '80s disc is the most troubling. It starts out great with the Romantics' "What I Like About You" (a fine, fine song unfairly appropriated by sporting arenas worldwide), rolls for another five songs or so and then drops like a stone until the Smithereens start cleanup towards the end with "Behind The Wall Of Sleep." The problem would seem to be evident: plenty of pop, not enough power. I'd point to the closer, "There She Goes" by the La's, as an example, except for the fact that it's a brilliant, transcendent pop moment, and most of the other "power"-less songs are not, which gives the impression of darker forces at work. The great songs are few, far between and available on much better albums. Completists will feel obligated to buy this, but it's the weakest of the set.
The '90s disc is premature, incomplete (which the liner notes acknowledge) and awesome. The songs that everybody already owns (Matthew Sweet's always-terrific "I've Been Waiting," the Lemonheads' symphony to puppy love "Into Your Arms," Jellyfish's Supertrampy "That Is Why") are the weakest. Even when, echoes of the '80s disc, it turns down the power (Ride's misplaced but lovely "Twisterella," Velocity Girl's spiky and kooky "Can't Stop Smiling"), the sheer pop rush of the songs makes up for any straying in the tried-and-true formula. But then it happens: you get slammed by the harmonies of the Rooks' ridiculously sublime "Reasons," the glammy punk of Redd Kross's groupie love song "Lady In The Front Row" and the Velvet Crush's anthemic "Hold Me Up," and it's over. After a short nap in the mid-'80s, power pop has revived and redefined itself for all those who stayed up listening to "Wouldn't It Be Nice" and "Teenage Kicks" and wondering at what point unselfconscious innocence died forever. The trick is, it didn't. You just have to know where to look.