Jeffrey and Steven McDonald, the two dandyish-looking California brothers who started Redd Kross as kids more than a decade ago, are quintessential all-American alien boys. They grew up in the same West Coast hurricane that spewed forth Black Flag and the Circle Jerks, but they always seemed more amused than moved by hardcore's sound and fury. Because the brothers were bona fide Beatles fans with a perverse but heartfelt taste for the sappier side of Seventies TV, it was only natural they'd eventually decide that crafting harmonies and hooks was hipper than thrashing out soundtracks for slam dancers. By the time Redd Kross found its true voice on the near classic Neurotica, from 1987, the band was rocking harder than a barrelful of Monkees, sticking its collective tongue out at Neanderthal head bangers and primitivist garage boys alike and crowing, "No metal sluts or punk-rock ruts for me, oh, no."

After Neurotica stiffed, the McDonalds took refuge in Tater Totz, a loose-knit aggregation of underground-rock renegades specializing in gonzo Beatles covers. Luckily, the Totz were only a stopgap, as Third Eye, a giddy blast of pure power pop as addictive as vintage Cheap Trick, makes abundantly clear. Equal parts post-Partridge Family and postpunk, Third Eye finds Redd Kross declaring its love for yesteryear's Top Forty ethos with nary a blush. Allusions to Seventies rock and junk culture abound – there are nods to Bachman-Turner Overdrive and Abba, and guitarist Robert Hecker's contribution, "Zira," is apparently a love song to the simian matriarch from the Planet of the Apes films – but you needn't have come of age in 1976 to want to jump on this band's wagon. Strip away the album's trappings of camp kookiness and you'd still have a collection of great songs. "Annie's Gone" is one of those simple-as-goodbye singles that the Bay City Rollers would've killed for. "The Faith Healer" offers an easy cure for the AOR blahs, while the bouncy "Bubblegum Factory" posits a situation humorously akin to the one described in Lou Reed's "Rock & Roll," except, in this case, our heroine's life is saved by the Archies. And the two earnestly acoustic ballads "I Don't Know How to Be Your Friend" and "Love Is Not Love" prove the McDonalds can get as fey as they wanna be without falling flat.

Cynics will find it easy to laugh at Redd Kross's clothes and hair while dismissing the group for trafficking in novelty nostalgia, but you'd truly have to hate pop music to miss the magic in "Where I Am Today," with its swelling choruses and mood of contented transcendence. Even if Redd Kross is winking at us, Third Eye's lighthearted look at a rock & roll heaven where God has a sweet tooth for bubblegum sure sounds like a revelation. (RS 595)

TOM SINCLAIR