my power pop addiction, no. 134 (206)

The Wondermints are utterly derivative, but they’re so good at what they do that it doesn’t matter. They take their deep love and knowledge of every little Beach Boys nuance – from the primitively recorded early surf tunes to that last gasp of greatness during the mid 70s – and add a bit of contemporary sheen in an effort to make the music more accessible to a younger generation of listeners while also appealing to guys like me who worship at the altar of Brian Wilson. It’s a neat trick, and it works. I’ve said this on numerous occasions already but the thing with copy cat music of this sort is that, as long as it’s really good, and as long as it feeds my insatiable pop jones, even if only for one day, then the fact that I’ve heard it all before doesn’t bother me one bit. Some listeners yearn for originality, for uniqueness, and for continual dosages of the new. And it’s admirable to want this. I don’t wanna be dismissive of it because it’s indicative of an open mind and of adventurousness. But it’s also not particularly realistic any longer, at least not where pop is concerned. There’s nothing left to do that hasn’t been done. The best we can hope for now is short bursts of all-too-familiar pleasure. This will only change when pop as we know it is finally abandoned as an artistic category people care about, and though it may sound a little conservative to say this, I kinda hope we never get to that point…