American Hi-Fi

In a more perfect world, pop wouldn't be a dirty word, pop rock wouldn't be an oxymoron, and American Hi-Fi would be at the top of the pop charts.

Welcome to a more perfect world.

If you've been anywhere near a radio sometime during the first half of 2001, you've heard the hit "Flavor of the Week." The penultimate driving singsong, American Hi-Fi's debut is an infectious concoction of Cheap Trick with a little bit of Blink and a whole lotta Foo. And if you've been anywhere near a television, you've undoubtedly seen the band's reverent send-up of Jeff Krulik's cult classic Heavy Metal Parking Lot. The flick, a fifteen minute magnum opus that takes place outside a Maryland arena before a Judas Priest concert, epitomizes the dual American rock passions of girls and cars, and thus serves as a perfect linchpin for Hi-Fi's luv of same.

Like the aforementioned Fights, a band Hi-Fi could best be equated, hooks and power are not mutually exclusive. The fact that both bands feature drummers who've stepped out from behind the traps to take the lead (Nirvana and Letters to Cleo, natch) could be a mere coincidence. Then again, it might just be the serendipitous mark of things -- and songs -- to come.

"Flavor" is but one of many radio-ready tracks on American Hi-Fi. Slated to next top the pop is "I'm a FFool," which comes off as a kinda heavy metal Weezer before a healthy dose of Teenage Fanclub. Bright and incessantly anthemic, "Fool" revs into the bubblegum Nirvana of "Hi-Fi Killer," the Foo Fightingest drive-time piece of real rock on the album.

Downshifting to a four-on-the-floor crunch is "My Only Enemy," probably the single-most angry stab of power pop ever to scream from the rafters. Here, singer-songster Stacy Adams revels as he "watch[es] the world turn on" his "only enemy," which, from the sound of tings, was one mean chick.

Hurt a bit but cleansed, the Fi then pull in for a more sentimental stomp on the road. But the Jellyfish-like bait of "Don't Wait for the Sun" barely breaks into a Bush-like thrash before things turn into "Another Perfect Day," which has all the pop candor of Duran covering the Velvets amid a Fountains of Wayne suburban sprawl, replete with a straight outta Ziggy guitar refrain.

Purists will pooh-pooh American Hi-Fi's pop smorgasbord, and might delegate them to the same kinda once-sung wonders such as Shoes and The Records, two seminal power pop outfits now left to the cut-out bins of history. This would be too bad. Every band has its inspirations to pull up to before they pass; and with Cheap Trick now in wheelchairs, we need the Hi-Fi's hot rod Lincoln vitality.

Originally run on the Wal-Mart website. Really.