my power pop addiction, no. 1 (73)

I belong in Power Popaholics Anonymous, the only trouble being that the higher power I'd give myself over to would be Dwight Twilley. When his perfect melodies wash over my body, like warm ocean waves on a glorious summer day, I know that he gets me. We’ve never met, but he definitely understands who I am, understands all of us who live for heavenly pop hooks. You know how it goes when you listen to a Beatles song and suddenly, from out of thin air, there’s a chord change that just seems so weird and unexpected but so right at the same time? This happens with Twilley as well, those amazing, life-affirming moments when some little quirk in the melody hits you smack dab in the heart of your aural g-spot. ...Twilley loves all the things I love -- great harmonies, fuzzy-buzzy guitars, shakers, tambourines... And even though he's a native Oklahoman, his sound and vibe have always struck me as being very Los Angeles. I picture late nights in a Hollywood recording studio, on the corner of Gower and Yucca, Dwight huddled around a microphone with Phil Seymour, the two of them wearing cans and harmonizing gorgeously as a small piece of the 101 freeway shimmers through the window with neon brilliance...Tonight’s ridiculously catchy song has a slightly hard edge that eases the music just barely into the domain of rock. But it never loses its pop bearings and serves as a mission statement for those of us who are lovingly devoted to power pop. We’re all eternally looking for the magic, and in Dwight Twilley we find it in spades...

PS – Yes, that is indeed a young Tom Petty pretending to play bass…