Unabashedly crashing through musical territories long abandoned-- mostly due to collective guilt and shame-- The Baby Teeth Album dusts off the centimeter-deep sunshine of Hall and Oates, the feathery foppishness of early Elton John, the growly, muttering navel-gaze of late Van Morrison, throws them all into a white 1984 Lamborghini Countache and drives it off of a cliff in a blaze of suicidal glory. While that may sound melodramatic, these songs are PURE melodrama-- the pop kabuki you used to hear when couples' skate was winding down at the roller rink.

Over the course of 11 songs, Chicago's Baby Teeth skates with you through dark alleys populated with lost lovers, bad memories, fantasy brothels and hopes dashed on the sides of rusty dumpsters. The trick is, Baby Teeth is a keys/bass/drums trio so while the themes are purposely overcooked, the music never is. This is classic pop songwriting; a return to economic pop forms, featuring lush 3-part harmonies, brutal bass playing and skronky electric pianos/organs. The songs themselves are smartly arranged and compact, appealing to both the lovelorn and the punk rock. There's a little something here for everyone...but let the buyer beware! As the Chicago Reader puts it, "you could cut the irony with a cheese knife."