The Rubinoos are a band to take personally, not seriously. Which isn't to imply that they are a laughing matter, but instead a joyous one. What we have here is a vital serving of classic pop rock, songs about adolescent romantic and sexual yearnings, perhaps too artfully naive to make much of a dent in a market ridden with outlaw, punk and disco obsessions. The Rubinoos, like their spiritual ancestors, the Raspberries, reflect a volley of AM sources from a decade or more ago. In their remake of Tommy James and the Shondells' "I Think We're Alone Now," they effectively invoke the summer passions of a generation too ingenuous and repressed to express its desires in the graphic terms that are second nature today. But the intent is just as clear, and just as arousing. The thudding drums announce the escape—then later the sexual pulse—while Jon Rubin (whence the Rubinoos) sings the tumbling verse with near-operatic zeal. I haven't heard a more committed or less affected homage since the Band's version of "The Great Pretender."

The bulk of the originals is just as exciting. In particular, "Hard to Get," with its clever, funky clavinet and graceful 12-string counterplay, and the stunning "Nothing a Little Love Won't Cure" (the Eagles meet Eric Carmen), are likely to succeed "Alone Now" as single bids. Rubin's full, boyish vocals and guitarist Tommy Dunbar's alternately fluid and hammering leads fuse the sundry references into a cohesive sound, a cunning pop marriage of emulation and derivation.

When the Rubinoos sing "Rock 'n' roll is dead and ??e don't care" in a ??edged Stones setting, it may not all be parody. They are sly mannerists, raised in and faithful to a spirit that measured rock for its engaging and insinuating powers more than its sensational, poetic or apocalyptic bents. It's fun, and it's form. More than anybody since the Raspberries, the Rubinoos embrace the pop possibility. Few other records this year have felt so good. (RS 244)

MIKAL GILMORE