Pitchfork

Back before their current reincarnation as regular- shlubs- from- Buffalo- turned- heartthrob- balladeers, the Goo Goo Dolls were like the band in the PG-13 movie that everybody really hoped would make it. Not like anyone listened to them back then, but their reputation for being the hardest working band in the biz (not to mention being such goshdarn nice guys) garnered them the oft- dreaded "critics' darlings" label on more than one occasion. So it would be a disservice to Pitchfork readers everywhere to simply state that all existing copies of Dizzy Up The Girl should be buried under a nice fresh steaming mound of bat guano. Yeah, I admit it, I admire the Goo Goo Dolls for surviving ten years on a modicum of ability (and indeed, I sort of expected them to hit it big a lot sooner), but that doesn't necessarily mean I have to like their albums.

Trafficking in unabashedly melodic scruffy rock, Goo Goo Dolls have always been somewhere between the Replacements and Bryan Adams in terms of sound and commercial appeal. Their singular talent lies in writing absurdly anthemic, radio- friendly choruses, which is certainly no mean feat. However, that's the only thing the Goos know how to do, and it sounds like they know it only too well. Listening to their songs, you can't help but feel as if they're rushing through verses and bridges just so they can hit you with The Big Chorus one more time.

So Dizzy Up The Girl is little more than a mismatched procession of hamhanded hooks, with John "Bon Jovi" Rzeznik putting as much grungy soul into his vocals as he possibly can. And don't tell me Rzeznik doesn't know his target market when he sings "What you feel is what you are/ And what you are is beautiful" and then follows it up with "Do you wanna get married/ Run away;" he knows damn well that the legions of dewy- eyed women who bawled at "City of Angels" will buy Dizzy Up The Girl solely on the strength of "Iris." But said women will undoubtedly be put off by the dumb guy- rock of "Extra Pale" and "Bullet Proof," as well as bassist Robby Takac's horrid vocal turns on tracks like "January Friend." Everyone else that's been wise enough to stay away from the band from the start would be better off buying the Mats' Pleased To Meet Me or even an old Soul Asylum album.