There aren’t too many things in music that equal the Clean singing the chorus to “Tally Ho!” How could there be? It was a brief, saccharine moment of succinct rock music. That moment, though, happened almost thirty years ago. It was when punk was trying to figure out what it was – it wasn’t just hardcore or new wave, it was still kinda pop. I mean the Ramones were as responsible for the entire genre as anyone else and those guys kinda thought that they were the Shondells. These New Zealanders figured out how to insert just enough eccentricity into their punk-come-pop constructions as to not necessarily re-write the book, but at least place a new chapter in it.

All of those Dunedin bands have come and gone – although members of the Clean were oft associated with the likes of the Bats. And while there’s an ever mounting appreciation for those groups being brought about in part due to Jay Reatard’s gushing about them, this group’s latest disc, while not disconnected from its collective past, doesn’t exactly fit seamlessly with some past glories. That’s not a fair way to assess a new release, but it’s hard to disassociate the Clean in 2009 and its disc Mister Pop from the band’s past life.

But let us consider this an autonomous disc – void of historical perspective. Then the somehow workable “Are You Really On Drugs” presents itself as an unmitigated success. No, there aren’t really any lyrics apart from the title, but the Exploited’s best song has three words in it – “Sex and Violence.” So, pretty quickly the Clean is able to offer up a track replete with psyched out guitar soloing that appeals to anyone that likes drugs with his or her pop music. The tune itself is a bit slow, but in Kilgour’s talking about substances, one should assume from the musical setting that this is coming from, he’s not talking about uppers.

Finding it’s stride for a scant five minutes, the band gets into a quicker pace on the up and down “Moon Jumper.” Disregarding how awful the title to that track is, the song’s subtle psych, never ending drone and uncompromising pace easily sets it apart from the rest of the disc. And even as the Clean don’t revisit ‘the instrumental’ elsewhere on the album, this one works well enough to be Mister Pop’s center-piece.

With any and all approaches to what a rock trio from New Zealand can do in the space of thirty five minutes, the Clean have concocted a wide ranging, but consistent disc for pop fetishists. This probably won’t wind up being placed on too many top ten lists for the year, but that’s not due to any great short coming. The only real qualm listeners might levy on this whole endeavor could be that some of the lyrics come off as half conceived – “In The Dreamlife U Need A Rubber Soul” being the most audacious insult. But if you can get through that and “Factory Man” there’re more than enough rewards – cop it well.