Fountains of Wayne, Sky Full of Holes
It’s wonderful, of course it is. Fountains of Wayne albums are too rare, too impeccably crafted to be anything less. But if there’s a quibble, it’s that I’ve listened to Sky Full of Holes several times through and it hasn’t spoken to me yet.

My initial discovery of this pure pop powerhouse couldn’t have between purer: an advance copy of their first album, with no prior hype top bias me. They had me from “Radiation Vibe”. When I got to interview them a year or so later, I learned they’d even lived here in New Haven for a short while, and had sublet an apartment from my favorite band of the time, The Gravel Pit.
I missed the first Fountains of Wayne show in Connecticut, a midweek affair at the El n Gee in London, but so apparently did everyone else; I recall Chris Collingwood telling me that they played that night exclusively for the club’s staff.
I did see Fountains of Wayne live several times since then in New Haven as their fame grew: at Toad’s Place, then at the New Haven Coliseum opening for Smashing Pumpkins, then back at Toad’s Place, where Collingwood referenced the Coliseum gig and a lot of people thought he was joking, since they’d just discovered the band. This was all before Fountains of Wayne made “Stacy’s Mom” a household name. (They should get a cut of every MILF porn website’s profits.)
In every album, Fountains of Wayne has spoken to a certain variety of disillusioned, socially awkward, suburban youth with uncertain future prospects. These are profound statements logically and emotionally on par with Brian Wilson’s hallowed “Don’t Worry Baby.” The new album hasn’t hit me that way yet. The loudest message on it is one I don’t really want to hear–” Richie and Ruben,” about a couple of lousy businessman through whom the song’s narrator has lost a lot of money. It all sounds painfully nouveau riche rock star. There’s probably a good reason why The Beatles never wrote a song about Magic Alex.