OK, probably not the best strategy to admit my dislike for the Beatles and my fondness of for Barry Manilow in the same paragraph and still expect people to take anything else I say about music seriously. But, in my (admittedly weak) defense on the Manilow comment, it really stems more from his lyrics than anything else. That guy wrote some seriously depressing and bleak stuff. Sandwiched in between the disco and show tunes is some really mopey material that could probably get Robert Smith to want to give him a hug and say it'll be all right. Wouldn't hold him up there with Leonard Cohen or Scott Walker, but more surprised that his sad-sack routine is widely forgotten.