Remember Blake Babies? No? What? Who? What's wrong with you? Blake Babies! Blake! Babies! The fact that you might be reading this and might not know the Blake Babies highlights both the fundamental charm and problem of this record of impeccable guitar pop. Imagine if you took every (good) whiny teenage song you knew, from the ones about unrequited love to those about feeling like a loser, and added thirty years of experience to them. In other words, the dumb anxieties that make the best pop song topics are given the added layer of the irony of knowing they're dumb, but no less important for being so. Which isn't as easy a skill as you might think, and produces charming results on song after song after song on this album. Any and all retreading of well-trod musical ground—and don't kid yourself, there isn't a new musical idea on this record whatsoever—is utterly beside the point. This man knows how to write a hook. And he knows how to write pop song lyrics like nobody's business. It's worth buying this record for its lyrics alone—if you're somebody who's old enough to remember Blake Babies. If you're not, then buy it now and put it in a time capsule. When you're old enough, you'll be glad you did.