Every Little Boy Needs a Girl

I realize after writing the last blog, that I may be the only person on earth that loves this album. Beside the fact that it contains one of the most insipid New Wave ditties of all time (title track), I also truly believe it is one of the most romantic pop albums of all time. I think of it in terms of my middle school self, struggling through adolescence. My heart beats a little harder when I hear this guy sing. Here is a detailed listening guide to Pop Goes The World by Men Without Hats.

1. Intro: An tiny elf-like voice accompanied by synthesized beats and whirs. You can barely hear him. He's trying to get our attention. The background noise becomes more audible, but it's not really music, yet. The elf is telling us that something really big is coming. The beats get more structured and intense, the volume swells, strings begin frantically soaring, searching, becoming cacophonous, until they crescendo into...

2. Pop Goes The World: Aside from the cutesy little girl introducing the song, this is well-trodden territory. Johnny play geetar, Jenny play bass.

3. On Tuesday: Like a nerdy but wonderful trip to the Ren Fair, the woody flute floats above this sweet melody. "It was only make believe, then along came Tuesday," repeats, and resonates. You're a 7th grader who just saw Beauty and the Beast, and your boyfriend is Prince Charming, and you get to meet up at your lockers after 3rd and 5th period. This is the anthem to untarnished love. Even love lost. When you're young, you think you've had your heart broken, but you won't know that, really, until later. Right now, it's puppy love.

4. Bright Side of The Sun: This is our first look at true melancholy on this album. It's just 40 seconds long, but the yearning in the insisitant piano part makes you wish it would last all afternoon. For the first time, you are looking to the future. The real future. It's a look into the future, looking into the past. Kinda like when you can see yourself having kids with a guy, even grandkids, and telling those kids about when you were their age. Just lovely. It's my 2nd favorite song, here.

5. O Sole Mio: And out of the murkiness of that rainy forecast, comes the perky song about being a rainbow. Did you ever keep a secret about yourself, that you couldn't tell even your best friend? I think that's what's going on here. The bridge takes this scary turn, the singer desperately questioning why he's not like everyone else, and wondering if it's hurting his loved ones. Here is the awareness of solitude.

6. Lose My Way: This song is more mature than the rest. It's my favorite, with the ascending piano parts, repetition, and angelic motifs. Until now, there has only been one male voice, but another joins him here, echoing, playing the role of his conscience. The homophony in the line, "Some are weak and some are wise, And summer comes as no surprise," always impresses me. Men Without Hats aren't probably well-known for their innovative poetry, but I just love this song. The autumn leaves imagery makes me shiver. This is more than heartbreak. He's made some serious mistakes, and he knows the worst is still to come.

7. The Real World: I'll be honest, I know this song the least. I don't like listening to it all the way through. First, it has a creepy I-took-a-drag-off-the-caterpillar's-hookah Alice in Wonderland vibe. Also the first recording I ever had, cut this song off halfway through, so I remember it ending after about 25 seconds. I hate listening to the whole thing.

8. Moonbeam: Back to middle school. Perhaps the fall dance was a bust, and your boyfriend dumped you, but it's March, now. The Sadie Hawkins dance is just around the corner, and the new boy you adore circled "yes" when you asked him via origami folded note. Hope springs eternal. It's only a couple months till summer, the sun is shining, and you have a new haircut. Spring Fever, I suppose, is in the air. "You were on a moonbeam, and I was in a cloud, And everything was blue green, and everything was loud." You're gonna dance your ass off.

9. In The Name Of Angels: Jenny and Johnny are a solid couple. They're confident, they have lots of friends, they can hold hands in the hall, they're the model for the perfect middle school pair. And all this earthly imagery, again, with the wind, earth, sea. It's not about hairspray, belts, or skateboards, no. Jenny and Johnny will probably be together forever, but there is this undertone. Of dread. It's tough to focus on it, with the noise of life clanging away, but at any moment, something bad could happen. Don't get too comfortable.

10. La Valse D'Euge'Nie: Transition. No words. Just a scratchy record playing a watery, ancient waltz. Really an extended intro to...

11. Jenny Wore Black: Truly the most insipid song on the album. I suppose I hate this one because all the girls in my school wore black to be deep, and I was really holding on to the Punky Brewster thing. Black eyeliner, black t-shirts, black dresses. Gosh, I think I just described my entire wardrobe and caboodle case. Let me try to be a little more objective. This is a fight Jenny and Johnny had because Johnny was pushing Jenny too far. She still wanted to be a kid, she wasn't sure if she was ready to grow up yet. So they broke up. And the whole school got to see the fight. And they were shocked.

12. Intro/Walk On Water: Another old-timey watery piano introduction to a jumpy 80's tune. This time there are lyrics. You can feel distinct generations in this music. And distant generations, at that. Maybe Johnny didn't want to tell his dad what was going on, but knew that his grandpa wouldn't spill the beans, so that was his confidant. And grandpa masterfully explained to Johnny the beauty of youth: Immortality.

13. The End of the World: "Will Jenny be older, will music be heard? Will we all meet again at the end of the world?" It looks corny in print, but this finale of a beautiful song set is the culmination of all the poetic thoughts and musical ideas from Pop Goes The World. Starting with simple piano chords, swirling keyboard, harp, theremin whirs, and a marching snare drum, the song is simple, hopeful. An obvious review of song titles echoes in the background.

I don't know anyone else who will admit to loving this album the way I do. I find that it's harder to fall in love with an album these days, when iTunes offers such instant gratification with singles for 99 cents. Buying singles for a buck is grand, but I miss the days when recording artists strove for the arc of an album. It's not as necessary today. Antique though I may be, I'm thrilled that I am of the age that I can impart advice like Johnny's grandfather.