There are some who seem to believe that all good music must be born of suffering; that in order to turn out an album of any merit whatsoever, an artist must be either twitchy, crazy, lonely, dejected, or just plain fucking miserable. These are the same people who'll quickly dismiss anything that isn't "serious" as being "childish," "amateurish," or simply "stupid."

It pretty much goes without saying that these people should be dragged from the corners in which they brood and brutally bludgeoned with tire irons. Granted, this is a rather extreme, not to mention labor-intensive, method of sorting out a few self-serious pricks. No, on second thought, I propose something new and different-- something to show all the quasi-intellectual gloom junkies out there that music can be really fun without being stupid or political or relevant. I propose that our sad little friends are dragged from the corners in which they brood, brutally bludgeoned with tire irons, and then given a copy of the now-defunct Prima Donnas' Drugs, Sex, and Discotheques.

The Prima Donnas, a convivial half-parody of a keyboard-driven new wave ensemble, fronted by Otto Matik (who also records under the similarly ludicrous pseudoname Gene Defcon), are certainly not out to choke you with intellectualism; the fourteen tracks on Drugs, Sex, and Discotheques are all about cheesy fun. But the three gentlemen in the band manage to make so many brilliant nods to the sleaziest, cheesiest elements of new wave that the album functions wonderfully both as a piece of catchy retro fetishism and as a hilarious exaggeration of an already-hilarious era.

There's a painstakingly elaborate story behind the Prima Donnas-- one that I won't bother getting into, but which involves English orphanages, Texan blues singers, and plenty of drug-induced comas. But the most immediately fripping facet of the Prima Donnas isn't their humor; it's their music. The first three tracks on here are energetic, mildly abrasive romps through the world of retro, synth-driven rock, with lead singer Otto's unique, nasal vocals cutting right through fuzzy keyboards.

With "Headfull of Pills," the band truly hits their stride, turning out one of the single most memorable songs I've heard all year. With slinky synths, an almost intolerably great melody, and strikingly funny lyrics, the song manages to be every bit as good as any song to come out of the era the Prima Donnas are sending up.

Elsewhere on the album, things get a bit sketchy, as the band seems to get too wrapped up in their gimmick to concentrate on making focused music. "F.U.K.," one of many songs on Drugs, Sex, and Discotheques to play up the fact that the Prima Donnas are "British," borders on obnoxious. But entertaining moments like the softly spoken vocal interlude on "Lavender Shakedown" manage to bring up an album that might otherwise suffer from getting too wrapped up in its own concept.

While some songwriting lapses prevent Drugs, Sex, and Discotheques from ever achieving actual greatness as an album, the consistent level of energy, humor, and fun (not to mention the inclusion of a single flat-out amazing song), makes this album immensely enjoyable. This album succeeds because, like the music it references, it embraces its gimmick with self-aware ridiculousness. Seriousness, after all, is often little more than a gimmick itself.