my power pop addiction, no. 43 (115)

I’m writing this post aboard JetBlue’s 7am from Burbank to NYC. I never thought I’d be one of those people who pops open a laptop on a plane, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. Last night I had an unpleasant conversation with someone I care about a great deal. It kept me up all night, and then this morning I overslept and almost missed my flight. I just managed to make it as they were closing the cabin doors. So I’m a little out of sorts right now – tired, a bit nauseous, smelly, and irritable. But I’m on a much-needed vacation now, and I’ll never be so out of it that I can’t rhapsodize for a few minutes about Shoes, one of my favorite bands ever. I put them in that rarefied group of bands that understand what I want and need everyday. It’s the celebratory riffs, the melodies and hooks, the creamy harmonies, the tightness and punchy pop excellence of the songs… A friend of mine once remarked that Shoes are a bit too vanilla. There’s something to this, I suppose. What they do is pretty straightforward and a lot of their stuff is repetitive. There’s not a lot of ground being broken with their music. But when those guitars radiate from my speakers, so sharp and perfectly distorted, I don’t give a shit about inventiveness. All I know is that I feel strong, sexy and satisfied. It puts me in an ideal frame of mind. I’m on top of the world and I can’t get any higher. It’s exactly the opposite of the way I feel aboard this flight to New York, exhausted, aggravated, and needing to puke…