he All Music Guide reviews Fountains of Wayne’s second album, 1999’s Utopia Parkway, as follows: “There's no denying that Fountains of Wayne know how to craft a great pop record. They know how to write a hook, they can pull of mild rockers and sweet ballads with equal aplomb and they write melodies that feel like half-forgotten favorites. They have all the elements of a classic power pop band but they suffer from that peculiar '90s ailment — detachment. For all their flair, talent, and craftsmanship, the band doesn't really dig deeper than the surface.”


No, no, no. Despite its rapid ossification into conventional wisdom, the idea that Fountains of Wayne are too willing to sacrifice emotional directness for the sake of a pop hook is as mistaken as it is lazy. That accusation caused a lot of critics and fans to unfairly slag Utopia Parkway as shallow and snarky, an album that to my mind represents a true pop masterpiece. The whimsical character vignettes that characterize much of the band’s songwriting are often caricatured as mean-spirited jabs at their subjects, or as late-90s examples of archly vapid irony. In this telling, Fountains of Wayne somehow manage to be both nasty and empty at the same time. Nice going, boys!


What this criticism misses is how truly endearing Fountains of Wayne can be. I dare any cynic to listen to Utopia Parkway’s “Prom Theme” and regard it as anything less than a perfect encapsulation of youthful hopes and desires. And what is the power pop classic “Red Dragon Tattoo” if not the ultimate anthem of the nerdy kid desperately attempting to impress the hot girl he can barely summon the courage to talk to? Those who are dismissive of Fountains of Wayne for being overly twee and precious had better be prepared to throw out a few babies with that bathwater. Jonathan Richman, among others, spent his prime writing this kind of slyly humorous yet evocative music.


All of this is prelude to saying that I’m resigned to the reality that Fountains of Wayne’s new record, Welcome Interstate Managers, is going to be derided as more “ironic mediocrity” by some critics and listeners. I’ll do my best to nip that in the bud right now, because Welcome Interstate Managers is stone-cold great. In addition to the usual blissed-out power pop that we’ve come to expect from them, Adam Schlesinger and Chris Collingwood branch out to include low-key acoustic numbers, buzzing trad-rock, and even a dollop of country jangling to create what will surely be an enduring classic. The record is sprawling and beautiful, a genuine pop masterpiece through and through.


Welcome Interstate Managers starts off with the traditional Fountains of Wayne formula: guitars, harmonies, and melodies galore. “Mexican Wine” and “Bright Future in Sales” are both snappy pop tunes that tell the stories, respectively, of a retiring airline pilot and a harried traveling computer salesman. As good as those tunes are, they do not prepare the listener for the sheer pop bliss of “Stacy’s Mom.” After listening to Utopia Parkway, I had been under the impression that nothing could match the pulsing melody and charmingly witty lyrics of “Red Dragon Tattoo.” I was wrong, as Schlesinger deadpans the tale of a young man hopelessly in love with this girlfriend’s sexy mother (to be played by Rachel Hunter in the upcoming video):


Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn?
Your mom came out with just a towel on
I could tell she liked me from the way she stared
And the way she said “you missed a spot over there”
And I know that you think it’s just a fantasy
But since your Dad walked out your mom could use a guy like me


Combine that with a soaring chorus complete with backing handclaps, and you have a hilariously engaging song that is destined to plaster a big, goofy grin on your face. The fact that “Stacy’s Mom” is just about the catchiest damn three minute song you’ve ever heard only adds to the impression that Welcome Interstate Managers is going to be one hell of a cool record.


And while Adam and Chris (along with producer/engineer Mike Denneen) are wise enough to basically stick with the power pop formula that makes their band great, they prove capable of expanding their sound. Songs like “Hackensack,” “Hey Julie,” and “Halley’s Waitress” are laid-back acoustic or piano-based ballads that prove to be heartrendingly gorgeous. The band even indulges its more rockist tendencies on tracks like “Little Red Light,” a song that on its own is fairly forgettable but serves as a valuable change of tone on this album. By far the biggest surprise, however, is the country-rock flavor of “Hung Up On You,” in which the boys pull off the honky tonk sound with remarkable aplomb. Count me among the astonished faithful, but on this album Fountains of Wayne truly seems capable of anything.


Beyond the individual songs, though, it’s as a whole entity that Welcome Interstate Managers truly shines. While they are often criticized for writing too many songs about theme parks, mall culture, and suburbia in general, I’ve always loved Fountains of Wayne for developing a real sense of time and place in their songs. Their world, as expressed in Welcome Interstate Managers, is one of heartsick teenagers, repressed office workers, the glories of high school football, and giddy suburban house parties. In other words, it is the world where a great many of us live or with which we have at least a passing familiarity. It’s a world that is worthy both of celebration and gentle mockery, heartfelt paean and cheeky satire. Fountains of Wayne are, at heart, a couple of New York/New Jersey kids who grew up while going to Coney Island and falling in love with unattainable high school girls, and who now see many of their peers and elders living the lives of computer salesmen or checkout clerks. The difference is, these particular kids grew up with the ability to write truly arresting pop melodies.


It is for this reason that when Adam Schlesinger sings “If you ever get back to Hackensack, I’ll be here for you,” it’s the lament of the idealistic kid still hopeful that his love will return home, yet in some ways aware that she will remain in L.A. as long as she lives. It’s the yearning that every heartsick dreamer feels, and it’s as pure an expression of the pop music ethos as I’ve ever heard. Skeptics be damned—for tapping into this purity, Fountains of Wayne deserve to be celebrated.