Okay, so the sound isn't quite original. Songs like "Rainbow Station" and "Tokyo Aquarium" are filled with retro hooks that would make Lenny Kravitz blush. And for the most part, the lyrics are somewhere on par with "Incense and Peppermints." But that was never the point with this type of music. Just drive, dammit.

I loathe to quote the press release for any album, but Del-Fi's comparison of Cloud Eleven to Matthew Sweet is an apt one. Cloud Eleven is basically Rick Gallego, who produced, arranged, and performed just about everything on the album. Gallego and Sweet share a weakness for fuzzy pop, Beach Boys harmonies, and, if the picture of Gallego with a reel to reel on the inside cover of the album is accurate, vintage equipment. Indeed, there's nothing on this album to indicate it couldn't have been produced by Eddie Kramer in 1969.

Pick your 60s pop cliche -- jangling rhythm guitars, lush ooh and aah harmonies, tambourine chorus, and even guitar/sitar. It's all here. It's a crime Cloud Eleven isn't playing Woodstock this year.

Still, somehow, none of this manages to weigh the album down. Songs like "Hurry Home" and "Superfine" manage to make a fresh shake with milk that has been spoiled for years. So drink up. Gallego gets some help on "Superfine" and "Wish I" from guitarist Zane Drake, who adds a nice touch of dirt with his distorted, meandering leads.

A couple of years ago, when Smash Mouth hit big with "Walking on the Sun," everybody recognized it was a recycled 60s tune. But it was done well enough that no one cared. They twisted along anyway. But where Smash Mouth was a mediocre punk band that played The Doors for one single, Gallego seems to live and breathe in 60s pop. And if he seems to be in costume for Cloud Eleven, at least you'll never find the seam.

You'll probably end up packing Cloud Eleven away with your sunglasses this September, and the album probably isn't as much fun with the top up. So enjoy it while it lasts.