All Hail the Lolita Nation!

This year marks the 20th anniversary of one of the few truly great rock albums to emerge from the hairspray miasma that was the late ‘80’s. It was also one of the last great double albums, thus standing as a reminder of a time when the music still reflected some real ambition. No, I’m not talking about Sign ‘O’ the Times, although this album is as comprehensive and emblematic of its respective genre (in this case, pure Big Star-lovin’ power pop) as is Prince’s masterpiece. And like Sign, Game Theory’s Lolita Nation is an unwieldy, challenging but ultimately rewarding chronicle of the chaos of its time. Start with “See Emily Play”’s dark, chiming whimsy, mix in a dose of shredding noise on the order of “Sister Ray” and filter it all through a kaleidoscopic central theme of an infantilized and oversexed culture spinning out of control, and you have some idea of why this album needs to be rescued from obscurity.

Game Theory came out of Northern California, and was loosely affiliated with other area neo-psychedelia bands like the Three O’Clock. Led by singer-songwriter Scott Miller, the band created two power-pop near-masterpieces in the mid 80’s, both of which were released on the late, lamented Enigma Records label: 1984’s Real Nighttime and 1986’s The Big Shot Chronicles. Both of these albums were produced by the criminally forgotten Mitch Easter who, lest we forget, produced Murmur and Reckoning for R.E.M. In creating a follow-up, Miller added two more musicians to the band’s lineup, reflecting the expended scope of his ambition. The result was, at first listen, an unlikely combination of elements, to put it charitably. First, there is some gloriously twisted and beautiful pop, songs like “We Love You Carol and Alison”, “The Real Sheila” and “Chardonnay” that begin conventionally but make all sorts of weird and unexpected turns before they arrive home. By the time we reach the third side (and I do mean side; I’ve never seen the album on CD, and I can’t imagine it in any format but vinyl), however, we’ve passed through the Stargate and emerged in the middle of a free-form noise collage, with song titles like “All Clockwork and No Bodily Fluids Makes Hat a Dull Metal Humbert” (how could they leave poor Barry Lyndon out of that one?). The album then resolves itself, kind of, in a combination of these two elements. It shouldn’t work; the self-indulgent noise, the too-clever-by-half references and Miller’s self-described “pitiful whine” of a voice drove me straight back to the band’s more conventional work after the initial spin. But the point is that there is no comforting familiarity or safety in the Lolita Nation, and the more you listen, the more you let it just wash over you, the more order and beauty you see in the madness.

I would recommend specific tracks to download, but there are two problems. One, of course, is that none of Game Theory’s work is to be found on iTunes or any major Mp3 download site. The other is that there is nothing here that remotely resembles a single, and listening to a song or two would be meaningless. This is an album, not a collection of songs and filler. As many critics have noted, the rise of rock as art coincided almost exactly with the rise of the LP as the predominant medium of the form. In the age of the iPod, the attention has shifted back to the single track; there seems to be little room for the kind of reach that makes an album like Lolita Nation so good. Track it down, if you can; the rewards may be a long time coming, but they are abundant.