Like magic and pornography, the question of the perfect pop song defies rational debate. Encountering one demands a pause to consider the accomplishment — the elements fitting in just the right places, the decisions all wise, the ending that comes just soon enough to make you want to hear it right over again. Some physicists talk about multiple universes happening in parallel, and I think each must have its own perfect pop song, or maybe several, depending on the subcultures. In the cosmos of early-'80s cool-dork America, this is the anthem I stand up for.
The Three O'Clock - On My Own
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