Boomph omph Bdumph dumbph ouch. That's the sound of Billy Squier's "The Stroke" clanking mercilessly through the summer. Like a construction site beneath your window that's on permanent overtime. Like the throbbing little blood vessel somewhere in the general vicinity of your forehead that tells you the very next stage of your really terrible hangover will be – yes, that's right–throwing up.

What is it about "The Stroke" that makes it so, uh, yucky? Well, it could be a rhythm that has all the charm of that ancient fascist boot stomp, "Boola Boola, We Will Rock You." Or the whiny, Robert Plant-style vocals that Squier utilizes without shame. Hell, even an idiot like Doug Fieger is smart enough to stick in a girl when he writes a jerk-off song.

More than likely, however, time will do a number on our reservations, and we'll look back on "The Stroke" as a great trashy single. We ought to worry, though, about falling too hard for someone who stamps a sly disclaimer right on the merchandise "I am what I am Whadda ya want from me?"

Since you asked, Billy, I'll tell you. What I'd like is less market research, more real soul search. A guy who borrows this many moves – from the Rolling Stones, the Faces, Led Zeppelin, Paul McCartney, et al.–should be able to come up with one idea that actually belongs to him.

Okay, okay, so even if Squier doesn't have an original lick in his noodle, the kid could be a phenomenal producer. Just listen to the way he's pumped up the ninety-eight-pound weakling of Piper into "The Stroke." Ding dong, Mike Chapman, you've finally canned the can. This afternoon's bubblegum champ has arrived. Bdumph doomph chomp. Think! Billy meets the Cars. Billy and Van Halen. Billy goes Hawaiian. Billy and the Records. Gimme gimme gimme teenarama! Billy and Stevie Nicks. I believe I'm seeing the light! Billy and Boston. Stop me, it's turning triple platinum! Billy and Cher. Billy and Gene Simmons.

But, you know, what's really getting to me is the way I keep whistling "Too Daze Gone," that other Don't Say No tune my local no bullshit radio outlet was really hot on for a week or two. And, probably, like most of Billy Squier's fans, I'll keep whistling for all the wrong reasons. (RS 356)

DEBORAH FROST