It's funny how so many social trends seem to have at least some root in the politics of elementary school. A scary notion, considering the rationale of any ne'er-to-do Kindergartner whose top priorities are dictated by "The Pokémon Trading Card Guidebook." Which brings us to the most obvious reflection of human fallibility: the desire to be popular. One should note that it's during the infancy of our formal education when we first become the unassuming targets of manipulative marketers who would have us believe that their product ensures our acceptance on the playground (and will, through some magic turn of events, make Daddy stop yelling at Mommy). Unfortunately, such misemployments of our naďveté work all too well, occasionally giving birth to a "cult-fad" or "cultural phenomenon."

It goes without saying, though, that once a formula for success has been established, the wave of would-be imitators held back by their own unimaginative nature champion it as their own, flooding the market with unabashedly derivative commodities far more economically priced than their brand-name counterparts. It was strange how on the heels of Pokémon's success, the similarly themed "Digimon" made it to American airwaves. Such was the case with the "Snorks," Hanna-Barbera's ill-conceived reaction to the wildly popular success of the Smurfs (albeit, with less communist rhetoric and subtext).

Now, in the more utilitarian aspects of life, I fall into the pro-genericism camp. Being thrifty, I've found that an RC Cola is much less of a strain on your pocketbook than Coke, and just as refreshing. But I bring this up because, a few weeks ago, a good friend of mine who's had to endure my incessant praise of the Elephant 6 collective for years on end approached me with the Arthurs' debut album and tried to pass it off as the second coming Christ (i.e. the Beatles). I listened attentively to the record's first few moments, which boasted a chorus of decidedly off-key children singing, "Please don't take my sunshine away," before my attention was diverted to the far more pressing issue of who would win in a hypothetical fight: Jeff Magnum or the tag-team of Will Cullen Hart and Bill Doss.

It's unfortunate that the Arthurs and I got off on such a bad foot because, for what it's worth, they're not really a "bad" band. As with any semi-lucrative psychedelic pop album, Walking in the Sunlight has its fair share of sharp hooks, hummable melodies, and Liverpudlian meanderings. But these ingredients alone do not insure an intriguing alchemy. In fact, it's when these structural cornerstones are prized over good ol' fashioned experimentation (the very source of psychedelia) that one is faced with such middle-of-the-road -Kevin Adickes, April 9th, 2002