A lot of the greatest music ever made is incredibly pompous. Okay, so is a lot of the worst -- like, say, the new Bush album -- but there's something appealing about music that asserts itself with a nasty swagger and pushes everyone else out of the way, like Nirvana did, or Husker Du. Just about any band with a big, fat sound has a self-assurance that reads as ego, even if it's not.

Foutains of Wayne, on the other hand, are humble-pop. They creep up on you, they knock on the door, they wait until they're asked to sit down. Most music dares you to listen to it, but the twelve songs on Fountains of Wayne's self-titled debut are each a request for your attention. And it works every time.

The single, "Radiation Vibe" should be pretty familiar to anyone living in a radio market with a "modern rock" station. It starts the album off on an achey bittersweet tone: "Did you lose the monkey . . . reading Playboy on your couch?" But in the end, it's an invitation to pleasure, just like most of the rest of the album, as if they're saying Come, frolic with us.

As opposed to the gloriously derrivative Lilys, FoW's songs are rather genreless. They're pop songs -- they bounce (even the ballads), and you want to sing along with them. Maybe it's over the top to describe the album as the "Banana Split" theme for smart people, but in some way Fountains of Wayne has the same naivete without being so thuggishly FUN FUN FUN. "Survival Car" even has "ooh la la" background vocals over the bridge.

FoW is, like the Ben Folds Five, loud pop music. Not that you need to play it loud, but you can hear the leakage in the studio, you can feel the thickness of the sound. The combination of crisp songwriting and thick arrangements should please anyone who started buying records in the mid-eighties, when the 'Mats and Husker Du were mining similar territory. The difference is the absence of a scowl: Fountains of Wayne make music because they enjoy doing it, not because they're driven to do it by some dark muse. Of course, there's nothing wrong with a good, dark muse, just like there's nothing wrong with Husker Du. But sometimes you need music that doesn't drain you or leave you hollow. Sometimes, instead of malt whiskey, you desperately need a milkshake.