Psychic TV was a decidedly undistinguished troupe of English dance- popsters that was never quite interesting or inventive enough to leave any indelible stamp on their mid- '80s musical milieu. So I can only assume this "best of" compilation is a vanity project for some devoted Psychic TV sycophant/ '80s throwback toiling at Cleopatra records. Maybe it's the same nerd who signed Gary Numan-- who knows? I mean, exactly who in the general public is stepping up and demanding that Psychic TV be excavated from the weeded- over New Wave Cemetary?

Along with superior Anglo bands like the Smiths, you could say Psychic TV provided, in a sense, a viable option for certain confused middle- class suburban adolescents in the Reagan era. I'm talking specifically about those who couldn't decide whether to take up the fake angst of the Revolting Cocks and Ministry crowds, or just embrace John Hughes films and dance merrily to OMD.

And admittedly, back in 1985, these guys sounded pretty edgy compared to the chart toppers of the day: Huey Lewis, Mr. Mister, Phil Collins, Scritti Politti, etc. But must the average Advanced Millennial Music Consumer Unit have their shopping experience haunted by every band associated with the decade that just won't die? Hell, let's bring it all back, why don't we? It's much easier for record companies to reissue old crap than sign new talent. Sure, considering the abundance of internet porn and the growing routine of those nasty three- martini lunches, who has time to scout new talent anymore? As a result, we'd get just what we always wanted: the entire Big Country catalog in a limited edition, remastered series with bonus tracks and upgraded packaging.

If Psychic TV ever had a near- breakthrough hit, it was the simple, catchy "Godstar." The song's a touching tribute to ill- fated Rolling Stone Brian Jones-- a nice gesture, to be sure. The down- tuned, quasi- Keith Richards guitar riff drives the song, like a truncated, streamlined version of "Brown Sugar." Of course, the main riff isn't indicative of Brian Jones' guitar style at all, but, hey, the Psychic TV lads are trying, ain't they?

Also included on this Best Uv is an incredibly faithful cover of "Good Vibrations." You may find this a real kick. Especially if you're one of those Sean Lennon types who, at parties, puts on Pet Sounds, takes a few bong hits, then frightens the guests by waxing histrionic over that crown prince of overrated autistic pop songwriters, Brian Wilson. "Yeah man, Wilson's a genius! He's like the Bach of rock n' roll, dude!! Fucker hung with Manson, too!"

Showing a penchant for shameless rip- off artistry, Psychic TV do some damn obvious referencing on some of these tracks. "Suspicious" is a torturous failed experiment that sounds like a tacky homage to Kronos Quartet or John Cage. It's such an obvious, uninspired attempt at "experimentalism" that lacks depth, substance and my personal interest. (Rest assured, these dark little people are about as conversant with "experimental" compositional elements in song as, say, Dave Gahan, or Thomas Dolby.) "Roman P" is about as uninspired a dance pop song as you'd ever hear, and could possibly be as bad as anything Yaz or Dead or Alive ever did. In fact, almost every song on this compilation is some sort of ridiculous "dance," "disco" or "alternate mix." The production is sheer pop gloss, and much of time the songs suffer from way too much studio engineering.

If a certain band has made no music worthy of a re-introduction to the general populous, like Psychic TV, then why must we have our intelligence insulted by lazy record companies? That's all I want to know. Why?

-Michael Sandlin