I bet you went to college. I'm pretty sure you did. Of course, it's possible you didn't-- maybe you're too young or too smart to have gone to college, but I think most of you Pitchfork People are college kids. Maybe you're still there, even now, sitting in the computer lab not writing your midterm paper for Women in Avant Garde Cinema or Mathematical Modes of Thought or Violence as Social Catalyst or whatever. You'll get to it, I know. I know how it is.

See, I went to college too, and chances are that you and I have a fair amount in common. Sure, there's general stuff like all- nighters and ramen and binge drinking-- everybody does that stuff. I'll bet we have more specific things than that in common, though. Things like not being able to eat in the cafeteria unless the sandwich bar is open, or a crush on the pizza delivery girl, or an insatiable hunger for pickled ginger/ Cornnuts/ Cinnamon Life, or a "From Chicago's Finest Forges" Big Black t-shirt, or a crush on the inter- library loan girl, or a fondness for Japanese snack foods, or a crush on the juice- cart girl. Perhaps we share a penchant for list- making and run- on sentences. One thing's for sure, though: you know Emily.

Sure, Emily. Or Jessica or Heather or Brian or whatever, but for our purposes here: Emily. Lives up on the third floor. Purple hair usually in pigtails, prefers to locomote by roller skates, never has room in her bag for schoolbooks on account of all the candy. She's super nice but you worry what your friends would think. I mean, she's never even heard of Big Black. Or Revolting Cocks or the Warlock Pinchers. Nope, she loves the Jackson Five, Culture Club and Wham! Naturally, she also loves the Push Kings.

Now, look, you're a serious person, I know. Between the latest June of '44 EP, the raging debate over Edward Said's childhood and the Ingmar Bergman marathon at the Student Union this weekend, there's not a lot of time in your schedule for the Push Kings and their blend of '80s nostalgia, glossy guitar pop and Motown references. Not to mention those lyrics: vapid, saccharine, goofy.

But here's the thing of it: you and I both know that at one time, your favorite album was Seven and the Ragged Tiger. You have no indie cred. And you'll be surprised at how much you like Far Places. It may not keep you interested for too long, but it's pretty catchy. "Lonely Times" choogles along like a frieght train built by Paul McCartney and conducted by Elvis Costello. "The Girl Who Only Loves Candy" is like Erasure versus the Replacements (and believe it or not that's a good thing). I guarantee that you'll listen to "Sunday on the West Side" at least three times in a row, just for the chorus. You may even find yourself wishing that Steve Albini used synthesized hand- claps a little more often.

Look, Fall's almost over. Run up to the third floor, grab Emily, her roller skates and her Push Kings, and go outside for Chrissakes. You can rent "Persona" next week.

-Zach Hooker