Sex and Food: The Best of The Pursuit of Happiness has the odd distinction of being the first CD I've come across dated 2000. When I flipped the disc over to look for the year, it took me quite some time, as my mind instantly took all those zeroes to be a zip code or something. Go figure.

The Pursuit of Happiness's best of is also entertaining in that it waxes nostalgic withou irony for the early 90s. Lucky enough, the music presented here is so fun n' crankin' that it is certainly worthy of review.

Do you remember The Pursuit of Happiness? The Canadian power-pop quartet with the quasi-hit singe "I'm An Adult Now?" Their first two albums were produced by Todd Rundgren, and they fit in nicely with the early 90s power-pop revival of Jellyfish, Redd Kross, Dramarama, Spin Doctors, Material Issue, Drivin n' Cryin', and, to a certain extent, Smashing Pumpkins and The Pixies. They stood firmly at the altar of Cheap Trick's "Heaven Tonight" both in their sound and attitude. They were a Canadian band, though, so let us not forget that their repertoire includes the unfortunate ode "Gretzky Rocks!" It is left off of this collection, but "Sex and Food" does contain eighteen assured rockers with solid hooks and hummable--nay, shout-along-able--choruses. Four of them have been heretofore unavailable on CD.

The record wisely opens with "I'm An Adult Now," for those who may claim they've never heard TPOH. "I'm An Adult Now" is as perfect hard edged pop song as any other in the great pantheon ("Lust For Life," "Surrender," "People Who Died," "It's The End Of The World As We Know It," "Radar Love.") It describes the frustrations of a rockin' kid recognizing his own mortality, and he ain't pleased. It has a sturdy driving beat, not-too-many changes, and a verse that's basically spoken. Problems raised include the fact that we adults can sleep to noon if we want, and no one will stop us, but we rarely do it. And we have to write songs about women, not girls, for fear that someone will label us a pervert. Drag, man.

TPOH never quite reached the euphoria of "I'm An Adult Now" again, but not for lack of trying. "Cigarette Dangles" has a beat taken straight from Bun E. Carlos, a flange effect from ELO's Xanadu days, and uses ethereal female backing vocals to great effect. There's somewhere that TPOH really carved their own niche. When everyone was digging up chicks to play bass, TPOH employed Kris Abbott, a comely young devotchka who borders on being an all-out six-string shredder. For the most part she's perfunctory, but once in a while she'll pull a move out of her arse (particularly a Belew-like reverb on "Two Girls in One," or Satriani frills on "Hard To Laugh") that'll really make you raise an eyebrow. I'm always on the look-out for women who really know how to play . . . not for any sick sex reason, rather to dispel others' prejudices. And The Great Kat doesn't count.

The other side of TPOH are the aching love ballads. "Pressing Lips" shows firm understanding of the Golden Chord Progression, even if the backing vocals err on the side of N' Sync. It is a wistful number about the perfect kiss from the perspective of a nervous date ("I can't give you the moon or the stars/but you can have the contents of my melancholy heart/But what can mean more than a kiss right now?/If you need a grand gesture close your eyes and show me how") and the chorus, "kiss me like you'll never see me again." It's cornball, but the professionalism is there, and it all works perfectly.

There's some cynicism here, too. Best is the funky "Nobody Like Me," one of the best break-up songs I've heard in a good long while. The dissed he says to the bitchy she, "Who's gonna clean and perfume your bras like I do?/Who's gonna make your macaroni and cheese?" I think you know the answer . . . nobody but me. Good stuff. "She's The Devil," which comes on like the second part of Pink Floyd's "Young Lust," and has that underwater Jeff Lynne vocal thing, is the logical sequel to this number, and is programmed accordingly. It also has the most solid riff, and the only reference to Deborah Norville.

Who knows what this new decade of music will bring? So why not start it off reflecting on one of the great unsung bands from the previous one? Until something new comes along this year, you'll have to pry this hard-rockin' party album from my player.