Los Popularos, formerly the Young Canadians, were a Vancouver crew who were apparently quite the rabble-rousers back in the heady early days of punk mayhem. This particular 45, however, reminds me of any number of pop hits from the first half of the 80s that were considered purchase-worthy singles (think Huey Lewis, Tommy Tutone, stuff like that) by essentially forgettable artists. So not so edgy or anything, but I'm a sucker for the chorus.

More garage revival nonsense. By the 90s, I was not nearly so interested in the tunnel-vision Chesterfield Kings wanna-bes as I had been in the previous decade. It seemed that by then most of 'em were more concerned with getting their hair to look right than in knocking out a decent chorus. Inexplicably, the debut LP from these Canadians is a rock-solid monster, with every track full of stinging fuzz, squalling organ, and a cool, sinister vibe. Atypically for such affairs, all of the tracks here were written or co-written by guitarist/organist Rieuwert Buitenga, and most feature either a memorable hook, or an interesting production treat; often both. Six tracks clock in at under two minutes, which never hurts anything. "Little White Lies" is not the catchiest thing on the album, but I love the organ riff, the ghostly backing vocals, the fuzz tremolo, and the sneer. The Worst have a skill and passion that so many of their gear-ically correct peers can't even sniff from where they're standing. They articulate rather than re-create. Dig it.

What's the exact opposite of sounding dated? You know, a record that sounds bizarre and utterly unfashionable when it comes out, but sounds absolutely up-to-the-minute a good quarter-century later? Well, whatever the word is, it fits Antena's debut. Upon its release in 1982, who would have known what to make of this? These days, however, after Stereolab, Air and Nouvelle Vague, the immediate response is "Oh, yes. Of course."

In its original incarnation, Antena was a French trio led by singer Isabelle Powaga. The 1982 five-song EP Camino del Sol followed an earlier single recasting Joao Gilberto's "The Girl From Ipanema" into a discordant, largely electronic meeting between pioneering electro-minimalists the Young Marble Giants and Tracey Thorn's defiantly amateurish first group the Marine Girls. Leading off the EP, "Achilles" retains a hint of the Brazilian influence in the lazy percussion and the quasi-samba breakdown in the final minute, but the synth-heavy arrangement is straight out of the post-punk playbook, and Powaga's dead cool, heavily accented vocals wouldn't start to sound close to normal in pop music until at least a year or two into Stereolab's reign.

Largely ignored at the time (especially after the original group split and Powaga started a new lineup called Isabelle Antena, whose music sounds basically like a somewhat hipper version of UK adult contemporary pop singer Basia), Antena get resurrected every few years. The most recent reissue, part of Les Temps Moderne's outstanding devotion to Crespuscule, Factory Benelux and similarly influential labels, collects everything the original lineup of Antena ever recorded, including two bonus tracks. If you like this, I strongly recommend it.

-Stewart Mason

For some fans of the twee end of the British indie scene, the apogee of the style was Mike Alway's label El Records. Alway's third label, after his time as the music director of Cherry Red and the head of the Warner subsidiary Blanco y Negro, El Records was The Alway Aesthetic in its purest form: the songs as light and frivolous as meringue, the artwork and graphic design impeccable, the liner notes right on the edge of terminally precious, all of it with a dry and veddy veddy English sense of whimsy. If P.G. Wodehouse had formed an indie label, it would have been El Records.

The Would-Be-Goods (name courtesy of the British children's author Evelyn Nesbit) were and are the project of singer-songwriter Jessica Griffin. Backed by a sort of El Records house band that at times included members of the Monochrome Set and other labelmates, Griffin debuted in 1987 with the "Fruit Paradise" single. 1988's "The Camera Loves Me" was both her second single and the title track of her first and best album, a song that marries Griffin's signature vocal and lyrical style with her catchiest tune, including a terrific chorus.

Somewhat surprisingly, Griffin has revived the Would-Be-Goods in the last few years, with ex-Heavenly guitarist Peter Momtchiloff as her musical foil.

-Stewart Mason