It's hard to imagine a band whose name better describes its essence than this one. The Vapors play a marginally New Wave brand of pop-rock. Mostly, they establish sketchy, static riffs, then sit on them for the bulk of a song, varying the dynamics and rhythm just often enough to keep your attention. Because of its simplicity, such music demands tremendous discipline. If the tension were relaxed, these tracks would evaporate into chaos.

Which has a lot to do with how David Fenton (the Vapors' rhythm guitarist, writer and singer) sees the world. Everything Fenton constructs is as conditional as Buddy. Holly's "Peggy Sue Got Married": i.e., filled with ifs and maybes. But Holly used this viewpoint to create tunes of glory, while Fenton merely expresses frustration. New Clear Days is an album so imbued with boredom that it's a wonder the group ever got around to cutting it.

All this ennui places Fenton in good company among British pop composers (Ray Davies and David Bowie come to mind immediately). It's also the perfect attitude for a vision in which every open road turns quickly into a cul-de-sac. When David Fenton writes a song called "Trains," he ignores the perspective of the mainline for the confinement of the terminal. And at home, things aren't much different. Kids wait around for absent lovers, and the waiting–not the loving–is the point. They encounter peers to whom they absolutely can't relate. Indeed, these teenagers don't even have the energy to clash with their parents. Instead, they silently disagree. When Fenton finally finds a companion, they signify their comradeship by apologizing to each other. In the LP's closing number. "Bunkers," the singer is almost ready to join up with the enemy (go back to school, spy for the government) just to feel he's part of something.

Given Fenton's peculiar penchant, what's really strange is that New Clear Days opens with one of the year's brightest singles, the lovely and bizarre "Turning Japanese." The only conventional song the Vapors have recorded, "Turning Japanese" is crammed with enough hooks to make up for the rest of the album (and maybe the next). With its impeccable musicalness and clarity, this pop stunner might well be a perverse Beatles outtake. Whether or not the tune's title is a masturbation metaphor (Fenton has backed away from this interpretation in recent interviews), its import is certainly such. Because, even in a moment that throbs with sonic glory, David Fenton and the Vapors remain outsiders, isolated but never insulated: "Everyone around is a total stranger/Everyone avoids me like a psyched lone-ranger."

The remainder of New Clear Days is simply an elaboration on the premise that life is a wank. You may disagree, but the evidence is persuasive. (RS 331)

DAVE MARSH