Those sweat-drenched primal screamers of the '50s knew all about good and evil. These four CDs are packed with chewy passion candies, bite-sized treats pungent with the urges of youth. The 104 tracks achieve a nearly unanimous standard of vigor and intensity, prodded by unhinged abandon or unmistakably bad intentions and nuanced into profundity by the artists' inscrutable mix of raw talent and dumb luck. At the time, these records helped teenagers embrace the revolutionary belief that youth is more than a condition on the path to adulthood, and that adulthood might not be the only goal in life. Songwriting is no longer the dividing line between pop and serious artist.
Timeless melodies are no longer the holy ghost of music.
Maybe the Backstreeters, who work with a Swedish Ace of Base producer and became overseas stars before bringing it all back home, are just a genetic mutation foisted upon us by the Europop dance machine, a factory uncontaminated by lewd American impulses. All rights reserved.