The Pooh Sticks were fake, like a band created to sell kids a groovy lunchbox and thermos, but they are great, great, great indie bubblegum that makes girls and boys both feel super cool on their Stingray with a banana seat or, if a little more grown up, the scooter. I swear this is the sound of eternal, blissfully ignorant white kids that just want to groove, look at pretty pictures of boys and girls, blush at a stranger, sneak beer, dip their feet in a pond, go steady, break up, roll down the windows, drive fast, take off their shirts and drive slow, kiss under a tree, find a great song on the A.M. radio, pretend they're the lead singer of the greatest band in the world, sell a million records, pick the best groupie and fall asleep perchance to dream of youth again.