Irony of the week. President Clinton, decrying the recent high school shootings in Littleton, Colorado, was quoted as saying the following: "We do know that we must do more to reach out to our children and teach them to express their anger and to resolve their conflicts with words, not weapons." Apparently the president temporarily forgot about his own weapon- based attempts at "conflict resolution," i.e. the ongoing and ever expanding onslaught in Kosovo. With such absurd hypocrisies being propagated on a seemingly regular basis, pick- me- up distractions aren't merely a luxury, they're an absolute necessity.

Enter Me First and the Gimme Gimmes and their heraldic impersonations of songs never before associated with blistering intensity, distorted guitars, and throat- tearing vocals. One can't help but chuckle when a tune you last heard being butchered by a prepubescent punchbag as part of an elementary- school "talent" show is transformed into a supercharged musical assault, the type of tuneage formerly guaranteed to elicit hostile reactions from virtually everyone over 30. With Me First's brilliant melding of baby- boomer- and- beyond musical tastes and adolescent raging, the unthinkable is now a possibility-- you and your parents might actually both enjoy the same music!

Before this thought frightens you too much, consider the long- range consequences. No more driving dreadful distances with the maddening whimperings of Kenny G's saxophone. No more vapid entertainers like Michael Bolton raising themselves to multi- million dollar status solely through the use of carefully concocted corporate schemes. No more "compromising" on the classic rock station after ten consecutive hours of easy listening have driven you to the brink of carving your eardrums out with the family kitchen knife.

Instead, you and your parents will both sit back and enjoy boisterous renditions of show tune classics such as "Don't Cry for Me Argentina," "Phantom of the Opera," and "(The Sun Will Come Out) Tomorrow." You both will chuckle as the original source of disappointment addressed in "Prom Night" is hilariously converted from rain to menstruation. Of course, only you will appreciate the first seconds of "My Favorite Things," an homage to Bad Religion's classic song, "Generator." But this separation will quickly be mended as the song dutifully shifts back to its more familiar form.

Never before has an album so brazenly attempted to bridge the gaps that divide multiple generations of music- hungry citizens far and wide. (Well, not since the last Me First album, anyway.) So call over friends, neighbors, relatives, guidance counselors, state penitentiary officials, and anyone else who might appreciate a fine tune, and unite yourselves in song, the greatest shield we have to protect against the sometimes ludicrous circumstances of life.

-Kevin Ruggeri