One summer in the mid-to-late-1980s my family took a sidewinding trip to Ocean City, Maryland to visit my relatives. On the radio at the time were such high-power ballads as Heart's "These Dreams" and Ric Ocasek's "Emotion in Motion"...and then there was Til Tuesday, a band with a distinctly flamboyant veneer masking true depth. To see Aimee Mann realize her true artistic forum in Paul Thomas Anderson's "Magnolia" is, for such a musical connoisseur as myself, a true testament to the talent of the woman whose band reflects such great memories for me as throwing a fluorescent blue ball on the Ocean City beach while the waves pounded the surf and the TV show "Valerie" (which later became "The Hogan Family") played on the television eight floors above. Everything's changed now, but one still can unload with a few of the terrific songs: "Voices Carry", whose synthesized instrumentals always sounded good on lonely backroad nights, and "What About Love" (especially the opening chord, which plays like a haunting conglomeration of ghostly loss and what sounds vaguely like a hiccup). Many people drag 80s music down, yet for so many people of our generation, its innocence coalesced perfectly with our childhoods. I have followed Ms. Mann for a few years now (from her "Whatever" album to her role as the nine-toed woman in "The Big Lebowski") , and I'm pleased that she has broken through. Yet at a time where I tend to analyze music for its artistic merit, I need not question 'Til Tuesday. Like Punky Brewster, Rubik's cubes, and bright fluorescent balls, she made my childhood all the more memorable. Great stuff.