Staggering. These take me back 35 years, to childhood, hearing these songs on the AM radio at night, in the dark: Gems of power pop perfection. Cynical exploitation of teen lust? Of course. Stipulated. But that merely? No, sir. No. Love songs, too, in their fashion. Pop hymns of youth and happiness and a world where consequences don’t exist, but only here and now and maybe forever, but not tomorrow, nor next month or next year. The Raspberries are chewing gum and smiling. They know they are being naughty. What a blast it must have been to be a Raspberry, for a few glorious years. Note that these guys seem NOT to be lip-syncing. Can a rock band possibly be this tight?
(I am seeing and raising Dan’s Death Cab for Cutie post.)