The Cars - Candy O

The logical explanation for why The Cars debut album is so good falls under the “A band has their whole life to make their debut album” claim, with the understanding that it takes some talent, of course, for said debut to be worth anything.

With Ric Ocasek handling a big portion of that talent quotient, and the fact that The Cars only featured 9 tracks to begin with, there would have been enormous expectations for their sophomore album. I mean, if it took the band’s entire existence to come up with those nine songs, you’d have to believe that they left a few behind for future releases that were just as good.

Candy O proved that Ocasek and company indeed had plenty of material in the can and in the works that rivals the high benchmark of their debut.

The only disappointing thing about it is the fact that it’s oftentimes overlooked by the AOR saturation of the first album which has-at least at the time of this writing-continued to overlook the treasures found in Candy O.

It’s a different album, for sure, but one where the difference is in song structure rather than quality. Candy O is a decidedly more pop affair, a direction that keeps the material tight and infectious. The songs are quirky at times, and producer Roy Thomas Baker doesn’t layer the selections with saccharine. In other words, there is plenty of tracks here that could have found a home on rock radio right next to “Good Times Roll” or “Just What I Needed.”

It begins with the obvious single “Let’s Go,” a weekend jump-start praising the attitude of what seems to be a young woman who’s not interested in one night stands (“When I asked her before/She says she’s holding out”), but merely to enjoy the freedom of the nightlife, baby.

This killer piece of radio friendly gold kicks of a stunning first side which runs the gambit of more pop gems (“It’s All I Can Do,” possibly my favorite Cars song sung by Benjamin Orr), a brief foray into Ocasek art rock/electronic pose (“Shoo Be Do”) and a mysterious bit of hyperactive rock for the closing title track.

That same rock, nicely decorated with Elliot Easton’s succinct guitar work, opens up side two with “Night Spots,” a more aggressive alter-ego to side one’s other ode to nightclubbing. It’s a less jovial too, as Ocasek’s lady seems to have more of a death wish, offering how she “keep(s) it cool when its t-t-tight/Eyes wide open when you start to fall.”

Ocasek saves his best for last in “Dangerous Type” a bit of T-Rex staggered guitar over Ric’s flair of cryptic back and forth (“How can I touch you/When you’re out of touch”). It’s a perfect way to end a nearly perfect album.

By my count, only one track, “Lust For Kicks,” is the weak link in the chain, but not by much. Even by the standards imposed by The Cars’ debut, Candy O sounds like a nice move forward without sacrificing quality control to the point where this sophomore effort shouldn’t be in every rock fan’s collection right beside their first record.