The B-52's self-titled debut was a masterpiece of pop trash - irresistible in its relentless pop culture references, singsong melodies, and 60's-derived beats teased into a musical bouffant. From the propulsive "Planet Claire" to the menacing "Dance This Mess Around" to the downright bizarre (if hilarious) "Rock Lobster," the songs fairly leap off the grooves, compelling you to shake your booty in the face of Reagan-era nuclear anxiety. Even the slightest cuts (like their frothy cover of Petula Clark's "Downtown") are delightful. The release of The B-52's was a magical moment, one that united disparate audiences in singular admiration.

In certain ways, Wild Planet is even better; it contains the band's grandest statements, "Private Idaho" and "Party Out Of Bounds," and some of their grittiest (relatively speaking) rock. But, it also bore hints that the band was running out of steam. The B-52's lost their focus fairly quickly thereafter, the synergy that produced their songs expended.

Synergy is an excellent word for the phenomenon that was the early B-52's. Composed at the outset by almost complete neophytes, the group learned how to play together in every sense of the word. Most of their songs were composed during freeform improvisations where singers Fred Schneider, Kate Pierson, and Cindy Wilson would vamp clever nonsequitors over rhythms provided by drummer Keith Strickland and guitarist Ricky Wilson (Cindy's brother). The sessions were taped, then cut and spliced by guitarist Wilson into coherent songs. This technique worked well until the band ran out of first-rate inspiration; then, Ricky Wilson, the glue that held the creative process together, died of AIDS-related illness in 1985.

However, I'm overselling the case. The records that followed Wild Planet each have some great moments, but they are easily summarized by hits collections (more later). The band released two decent EPs (now available on one CD): Party Mix (1981), a remix exercise, and the David Byrne-produced Mesopotamia (1982), an interesting but strangely humorless foray into world beat. The full-length Whammy (1983) contains a withering parody (or is it?) of the upwardly mobile, "Song For A New Generation." Even the dispirited Bouncing Off The Satellites (1985, recorded as Wilson succumbed) offers up the infectious, hopeful "Summer Of Love."

Ricky Wilson's death meant that, in some ways, the magic would never be recaptured. The B-52's earned my eternal respect, though, in the way they reinvented themselves afterwards, eventually scoring their biggest seller ever with 1989's Cosmic Thing. While it bears little of the group's earlier spontaneity and eccentricity, it's a solid, enjoyable record that yielded two tremendous Top 10 singles, "Love Shack" and "Roam." The follow-up, Good Stuff (1992), failed to sustain the good will, however, and the B-52's lapsed into semi-retirement.

Over the last few years, the B-52's have released a couple of very well-selected compilations. The first, Time Capsule, is about as good as a single-CD survey of this group could be, plus it has two new (pretty decent) songs. The second, Rhino's highly recommended Nude On The Moon: The B-52's Anthology, is a deluxe two-disc set. It has the usual imperfections common to such packages - it tinkers with history (too many alternate versions, remixes, etc.) and it focuses too much on later, weaker material. Otherwise, it's a collector's dream, containing nearly every one of the essential songs listed below.

In an odd footnote, in 1996 Fred Schneider cut a pretty great solo LP (his second) called Just Fred with indie rock wizard Steve Albini producing. Employing Albini's clout, Schneider imported members of Shadowy Men On A Shadowy Planet, the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, the Supersuckers, and other leading bands of the day to record an edgy, excellent, completely out-of-character record. It flopped, of course, and is now way the hell out-of-print - though easy to find as a used CD. Recommended only for serious B-52's fans, but recommended nonetheless.