Joe (Yes, it really is a good record) Fernbacher, Creem, 1/84
Bleary-eyed and wondering, wandering through the shimmering graperies of the cosmic lull, I’m constantly finding myself darting between demonizing boredom and that big, noisy smirk known as heavy metal. But, yes, even I have to stray from the chosen path once in a great while. And when I do, it’s usually down to the perimeters of power pop, and while I’m severely tempted to say that out here on the perimeter, there are no stars, I can’t. Why? Because out here there’s the Romantics, and I like them.
The Romantics’ brand of infectious power popping is a soothing skin salve for a soul long-ago charred by the flames of metal gehenna. On their last LP, Strictly Personal, they almost got past the gaunt creaturettes guarding the escalator to said gehenna and almost found themselves on the plains of pure metal. Which, of course, made me like them even more. What really clinched it though, was a song called “No One Like You,” a tune possessed by the spirits of boozedelic romance. This song is absolutely without equal when you’re dead drunk and lusting after your best friend’s girlfriend, and you know it’ll simply never happen, so you get drunker and play this song even louder, and get even drunker, etc., until consciousness does a lap dissolve into nodhood. Know what I mean?
So along comes this new Romantics LP, In Heat, and after being parbuckled into my low-rent wickiup by a giggling band of Jennifer Jason Leigh look-alikes due to yet another session of grape overindulgence, I find myself scuttling across the ruined landscape of my bedroom floor looking for this album in hopes of getting some more, much needed solace.
On comes “Rock You Up” and making the obligatory Japanese jokes to myself, I find my toe actually tapping. This is either a sign of oncoming sobriety or a genuine feeling of gladness. I continue to listen real close only to stumble back aghast. This ain’t no power pop at all--this is just pop! “Do Me Anyway You Wanna”--more of the same: “Got Me Where You Want Me”--again same. By now, I’m almost ready to get up and eat this record, my fondness for this band waning like an August moon.
But then, right at the moment of sheer despair, I hear the opening chords of the song which just happens to be my personal favorite of all time, a song I’d like to have with me were I stranded on a lonely asteroid with some unruly green slime. At last, somebody has had the good sense and the talent to do a remake of Richard And The Young Lions’ “Open Up Your Door.” This is simply THE teenage song of any and all generations as well as being a great tune with which to play dueling brothers--“I said, a-I, no, I said, a-I, I--I--IIIIII...” (that one’s for you, Lester).
After playing “Open Up Your Door” over and over again until the groove turned a light shade of grey, I moved on to Side Two. The only really noteworthy track here is “Talking In Your Sleep,” which is very good and very Dwight Twilley. The rest of the side, however, points up my major complaint about this band: even though I like them, they always start out their records so strong and always manage to have at least one unforgettable song which promises more than they eventually deliver. Oh well, nobody’s perfect. Damn. Now, I’m sober and in heat. What’ll I do? Hey, I got it--“I said, a-I, I, I said a-I...”
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