Jonathan Richman: Modern Lovers 88 : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone

Album Reviews

To understand Jonathan Richman records, it's almost imperative that you see him perform. On disc his passionate sing-alongs about dancing, UFOs or the old corner store can seem affected, embarrassing or just plain goofy. But in concert his doleful smile and heartfelt delivery can nudge sensitivity out of even the most hardened cynic. Richman is capable of converting a clubful of strangers into rapt devotees, but instead he's become an oddball cult hero preaching to the already converted.

Modern Lovers 88 – a joyful if abbreviated set from Richman and the current Lovers, drummer Johnny Avila and guitarist Brennan Totten – will do nothing to alter this. If Richman were capable of irony, the album's title might seem tongue in cheek: the simple chord changes, bare-bones instrumentation and unsophisticated production are as un-up-to-date as any of Richman's works since 1976's hard-edged Modern Lovers. (That dark, prescient master-piece was released after that configuration of the Modern Lovers – including future Talking Head Jerry Harrison and David Robinson, later of the Cars – had disbanded.)

Despite constant changes in the group's personnel and popular musical taste, Richman has stubbornly held on to both the band's name and a fun-loving-naïf outlook, for better and worse. One song on 88, "When Harpo Played His Harp," ranks with his best, with sweet harmonies on the chorus and straightforwardly poignant verses: "When Harpo played his harp/It was a dream, it was/Well, if someone else can do it/How come nobody does?" Others verge on the trivial: the solipsistic "I Have Come Out to Play" and "Circle I," about a store's great produce, wear thin fast.

But Richman's passions are honest and winning on the Chuck Berry-style raveup "Dancin' Late at Night" and the bopping "Gail Loves Me." And his recent relocation to California provides a wellspring of inspiration ("New Kind of Neighborhood" and "California Desert Party," featuring Richman's own inimitable goose-honk sax playing).

Even with the padding of the instrumental "African Lady" (which sounds suspiciously like "New Kind of Neighborhood") and a hummed rendition of "The Theme from Moulin Rouge," 88 clocks in at less than thirty minutes. But so did Richman's best postpunk album, Sire's now-deleted 1983 Jonathan Sings! Since then his indie-label releases (1985's Rockin and Romance and 1986's It's Time For ...) have been spotty, but always with shining moments: the choruses still ooh and ahh and wangity-dangity, the guitars still go twang-a-wang. What more fun could you ask for?