Pitchfork

I don't understand. She's a cute little thing, jet- black bob-cut (it was to become her nickname), a childish smile and her omnipresent summer- dresses... and she likes the B-52's. It doesn't work in my brain. Despite her regular attendance at the local bars, her drunkenness, and her desire to hook up with loud- voiced men, she is eternally silent, a conversational black- hole from which no words ever escape. You know the B-52's-- "Love Shack," "Roam," "Deadbeat Club"... you certainly must know "Rock Lobster." It's manic, crazy, party- love stuff that begs for smiles, frivolous conversation and embraces.

I told the girl about this record, and asked her to provide me with some pearls of wisdom about her favorite band. She looked at me and smiled, crossing her tanned legs under a lovely floral print. Maybe she thought I was hitting on her. Maybe she wanted me to hit on her. Maybe she wished she were somewhere else. Maybe she was thinking about making love to Fred Schneider. I'll never know. Her silence causes blindness.

Anyway, the B-52's emerged from the Athens scene that blew up back in the late '70s and early '80s. Listening now, you can hear their contemporaries in their sound, the jangle of a guitar that seems to belong on a Cure or Violent Femmes album, harmonies that might have originally belonged to the Bangles, and a style and dancability that must have impacted Deee-Lite. Yet, Fred Schneider, Kate Pierson, Keith Strickland, and Cindy and Ricky Wilson gave the B-52's a unique sound-- bursting with an enthusiasm, humor and good vibes as yet unmatched. It's not deep, analytical or philosophical-- it's fun, kids. Pure fun.

Which brings us back to Bob-cut. I asked her if she wanted to be famous. I said I'd write about her in the review, and she smiled. I asked her what sort of hand lotion she used. I told her that her shoes made her look like a tough girl. I asked if she had hair growing out of her ears. She smiled, and smiled. Where do Fred, Kate, Keith, Cindy and Ricky fit into this equation? Does Bob-cut live in the love- shack of her own mind? I've got a Ford (not a Chrysler) that's as big as a whale, and she doesn't seem terribly excited that it's about to set sail. Does Bob-cut want to roam around the world? Is there a glimmer of joyous carelessness in her eyes that identifies with "Deadbeat Club?" Is she an enigma, a puzzle, a brainbuster, or just simply boring and silent? The B-52's, man! That's the whore of it all! If she loved Smash Mouth, Matchbox 20 and Jakob Dylan, it'd make so much more sense... but... arrggh!

Sigh. Time Capsule gives it all, baby. Y'get everything you want by the band that stole seriousness from new- wave, plus two new tracks and an unreleased mix of "Summer Of Love." Put it in at your next party, watch the smiles come and the dancing begin. And think of the silence of one fan as you shake your ghetto booties.