For indiepop fans, this is definitely music done right -- the lyrics are smart, the instruments well-played and not a single note resorts to gimmickry. The album opens and closes with nostalgia-laden numbers about John Hughes and Olivia Newton-John, but don't worry. This band does not look back with that kind of amused grin which inspires short-lived appreciation. Instead, the subjects are tackled in a gorgeously realistic manner, whereby these nostalgic leanings are approached with the tenderness of a Truffaut. Both of these tributes are sincere, evoking the rapture an artist's work can cause ("You were my first rock and roll idol...I was hopelessly devoted to you") and the requisite sadness which simply must accompany such over-the-top adoration ("The stories simulate my moods/Hope I can pick up some clues").

Despite their sweet name, and the fact they come from the city where Eight is Enough took place, these two guys and a gal never succumb to cutesiness. When John Conley handles vocals, they sound more like Aden -- the songs themselves become a bit more intricate, with the guitars restlessly pursuing his low and wandering vocals. Give the mic to Verna Brock, though, and the band transforms into a tight, melancholy power pop trio. Here they'll vaguely recall Tanya Donnely, but without the forced poetry. Verna's songs are tighter than John's, more immediately fulfilling and less melodically surprising. In that sense, they're much more radio-friendly. The wonderful musicianship remains, though, accompanied by a candor so simple and plain that it's quite easy for the beauties of a "Cross My Heart" ("When I look at me/I don't much like what I see") to go unnoticed or underappreciated. The feelings in these songs are feelings we've had or heard a million times, but they're still true; it's a pleasant surprise that the California Oranges are one of the few bands still willing to bank on them.

While you're online, do a search for Eight is Enough. You'll eventually come to pages where you can buy pictures of a shirtless Willie Aames for six bucks. He's had such a great career (who can forget his work with Scott Baio on Zapped and Charles in Charge?), and this memorabilia might be worth millions one day, but trust me here: the pleasures of that picture will not last as long as these songs. Unlike other bands in the twee camp, the California Oranges have a timeless appeal, and their debut is a perfect simulation of the moods our present-day malaise can't shake off.