Ten years ago this month, on Oct. 1 1996, Fountains of Wayne released “Fountains Of Wayne.”

If 1991 was “the year punk broke,” then 1996 was the year power-pop broke… and then was tucked away almost immediately and forgotten about 12 months later.

Though the early half of the 1990s saw smooth guitar acts like Teenage Fanclub and Matthew Sweet play their dbs-inspired jangle-pop to critical and commercial success, it was Weezer’s 1994 debut that ushered in a new breed of power poppers. Until the release of the “Blue Album,” the genre relied heavily on vocal melodies and swaying, multi-part harmonies to carry the bulk of a song’s hooks.

The genre – especially its guitars – had always been rather unassuming and non-confrontational.

While Kurt Cobain described his band as “Pixies playing Knack songs,” Weezer’s debut sounded like the Knack playing Pixies songs. If Nirvana could use a soft-loud-soft structure to buff-up pop songs, then why couldn’t Weezer pop-up buff songs? If Nirvana could take basic pop structures and make them sound dirty and rough, Weezer found a way to reverse it and make lo-fi, challenging structures accessible and catchy.

Listen to “In Bloom” and “Undone (The Sweater Song);” they follow the exact same formula and have the same pop sensibility.

So the same way Nirvana restructured a hard-rock environment, Weezer’s debut leveled the power-pop playing field and created an entirely new sub-genre – Weezer Pop. (The term was coined in 2002 by then Chicago talk-radio host Brian Anderson). It was the same melodic riffs and chunky guitar chords, but through the foil of pop songs. Like there’s a thin line between love and hate, there’s an even thinner line between grunge and Weezer.

And as Nirvana showed major labels it was safe to gamble on other legit peers, which then gave way to a series of imitators like Bush and Candlebox, Weezer too would start a signing craze.

By 1996, the “Blue Album” had aged a couple years, and when the quartet dropped “Pinkerton,” the genre had a trio of soon-to-be staples release their own respective debuts that calendar. Superdrag’s “Regretfully Yours,” Nada Surf’s “High/Low” and Fountains of Wayne’s self-titled all came on the heels of Weezer’s sophomore album.

Coincidentally, the Superdrag and Nada Surf releases would be both bands’ worst but most commercially successful. Fountains of Wayne would be the opposite – the band’s first stands as its best yet least economically viable output.

But total sales should never qualify music. If they did, FOY’s third release “Welcome Interstate Managers” would be a significantly better album than “Fountains of Wayne,” and that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, there are few moments – not just power pop moments, either – as purely enjoyable as that debut’s opening track “Radiation Vibe.”

If for no other reason, “Fountains of Wayne” should be remembered for giving possibly the purest, most genuine pop ditty of all time. But the record is so much more than just one track.

It’s a record by two pop gurus – Adam Schlesinger and Chris Collingwood – who played and sang almost every note. And it sounds just like that. Like two friends with a combined passion for quirky observations about monkeys on peoples’ backs, bikers with extraordinarily attractive girlfriends and taking the long way home. They are two men with similar senses of humor, equal obsessions for vocal hooks and a love of foot-tapping, head-bobbing rhythms. Which is evident in the dozen songs on “Fountains of Wayne.”

It does, coincidentally, sound exactly like the album’s artwork. The cover shows a boy striking a Superman pose, wearing a homemade costume, lost in his own fantasy… completely content to entertain himself with his big dreams. If anyone was to need help, he’d be ready and willing — but he’s probably not expecting to save anyone’s day. And that’s okay. He’s content staying in his own backyard.

It mirrors the way Schlesinger and Collingwood were just two guys with big dreams, happy to entertain themselves. If anyone cared to hear their intricate brand of pop, so be it. But if the tunes never reached beyond the studio, the duo would have still made the same brilliant record… and they new that. And that’s what mattered most.

Good songs find a way of lasting, and mediocre music trickles away. It doesn’t matter if a song was on vinyl, an import-only 7” single, MP3, tape, reel-to-reel, whatever. Great music survives.

And in 1996, long before Stacy was a glimmer in her mom’s eye, Fountains of Wayne produced one of the genre’s milestones. It’s too bad it took their latter day sub-par output to draw the attention of a new generation, but you can’t fault people for being born 10 years too late.

Good things come to those who wait; and Fountains of Wayne’s current success is just retribution for when they released perfection a decade ago – and nobody cared.

It’s about time people did.

Daily Herald BEEP, Oct. 23, 2006