I can’t help but feel the nostalgia rush over me as soon as this album starts up. I have a vague recollection of sitting in the Fishman’s sprawling ranch house somewhere in the hills of the San Fernando Valley playing with Hotwheels and wondering why this sexy sounding woman was always hanging on the telephone. Of course, I had no idea what sexy meant, only that her voice made me tingle in places that, say, my second grade teacher didn’t. Back then it was cool to like the punkish Debby Harry and her weird mixture of sex doll and sneering dominatrix. Now, people look at you funny if you blast “Call Me” from the computer speakers at your desk. What was once cutting edge is now kitsch. Oddly enough, my favorite track from this greatest hits collection is “The Tide is High.” It reminds me of pool parties and nasty, drunken limbo in college–both wholesome and naughty, just like the band’s music itself.
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