Attention pop pundits, clever cynics and ironically detached hipsters -- and for that matter, anyone out there who has ever thought, "If it's good enough for Janeane Garofalo, well then, it's good enough for me." I give you Sad Like Crazy!, which the aforementioned aging Gen. X icon declared to be "The greatest band name ever." If the mention of Ms. Garofalo conjures up an image of Ethan Hawke mouthing along to The Violent Femmes' "Add it Up" in some dingy grunge club, never fear; the saccharine pop-sounds of Love Songs to Death are more akin to Athens 1998 than Seattle 1991.

The band has a varied approach, taking on the established pop structures favored by The Lucksmiths while incorporating their own measure of classic Americana and guitar-based rock. The disc's twenty-two songs are firmly rooted in the lo-fi aesthetic; most were written by multiple songwriters and tracked mere minutes after they were created. While such a brash approach manifests itself in the album's overall sloppy nature, the songs remain drenched in airy melody and blissful co-ed vocals. At times the disc even feels like a conscious attempt to sound like a pop-o-rama compilation, with each song bringing a new band's unique perspective and non-stop energetic gusto to the mix. There may be some bad songs, but nothing here lacks heart.

While seventy minutes of pop may seem overwhelming on paper, it goes by quickly. The band tears through numbers at an upbeat pace, with slight vocal and instrumental variations throughout. Of course, with so many songs to choose from, listening is a hit or miss proposition, and judicious use of the "skip" keys (or careful pre-programming) becomes a necessity. For every undeniably infectious "Sweet To Me" or "Lynette," there's a desperate "Shake the Elders" or "Wooden Kimono" that we could easily have done without.

Basically, this is an above-average album that could have benefited from the services of a discerning editor. While the band says the disc should be digested in doses, I can't help but wonder what miracles a more concentrated effort might have wrought.