By now the nail was most certainly in the coffin for any hopes that Oingo Boingo would return to their manic and quirky early ska punk days. If the cover of their sixth album Boi-Ngo is any indication of the band’s steadfast ascension to maturity, then feast your weary eyes! The full band is on display for the first (and only) time! And what a band of sophisticates it is! Widow’s Peak, Poofy Hair, Beardy, Shifty, they’re all here! I see a guy with a fucking beret on his head. At least Danny Elfman himself has the good sense to stay coy, obviously concealing a goofy shit-eating grin, and reassuring us that the band hasn’t entirely lost its humorous edge.

But, yeah, to say that Boi-Ngo is a return to form after the tepidity of Dead Man’s Party is like saying that 9/11/02 was a better 9/11 than the previous 9/11. The production has improved drastically…so drastically, in fact, that this is likely their best sounding album ever. Crisp contrast and wide dynamic range here really make those fuckin’ horns POP without sounding too slick and cheesy, so congrats Oingo Boingo for narrowly avoiding making your 1987 album sound like it came out in, god-forbid, 1990. Ha! Along with the improved production, the energy is back too. It’s not as frantic as the days of old for the band, but Boi-Ngo recaptured the sorely lacking urgency of Dead Man’s Party while tempering the edges with more, let’s say, enlightened melodies and strong structures. That is to say, take the energy from the early albums and strip away all the weirdness and you’ve got Boi-Ngo. Take what you can get.

I like this album a lot, but only after accepting the fact that the band’s usual charming strangeness was gone now. Without the charming strangeness it all feels very pointless at first, like why would I even bother listening to this when I could listen to literally anything else? This was a tough hurdle to get over, and unfortunately this is what likely hurts Boi-Ngo the most: the shattered hope. BUT, aha, this is yet another perfect opportunity to drive home my philosophy of learning to enjoy an album on its own merits instead of trying to compare it to the band’s earlier, or “best”, or most quintessential, efforts. Listen to it in a vacuum and what do you get? Let’s break it down.

The album kicks off with “Home Again”, which sets the vibe immediately. Gone are the high-energy, rockin’, paranoid openers of yore. This one is high-energy, rockin’…not paranoid, though. Optimistic? Hopeful? Even a little sappy? Dig into the lyrics a little and you’ll learn that this is one of those stories as old as time about losing one’s way, losing innocence, never being able to go back and unsee what’s been seen (“He’s got charisma/But when he’s all alone/He curls up in a ball/And wishes that he was home again…/Home again…“). The familiar Boingo theme of introverted despair! I knew the band hadn’t changed much! Just a little bit of lyrical dissonance, but hey, what a strong and lively melody right out the gate huh? And Boi-Ngo more or less continues in this fashion, with track after track of lively, upbeat earworms offering nothing more profound than an enjoyable listening experience (even if Elfman thinks he’s being more profound than reality proves). “Where Do All My Friends Go” weaves in sneaky, slithering funk throughout the call-and-response lyrical phrasing (“I’ll follow you until I die/Tell me where my friends go/With outstretched arms into the sky/Tell me where my friends go“), chugging along on unrelenting momentum. “Elevator Man” is nothing more than a four-and-a-half minute cunnilingus joke (“Who’s goin’ down/Who’s comin’ with me?“) and it’ll make you feel oh-so-sleazy for enjoying the shit out of it! These first three songs are an incredibly solid one-two-three punch of boisterous, rollicking, catchy goodness for your earholes.

Then in comes Elfman’s preachy side with “New Generation”. I always like it better when Danny waxes poetic about inner turmoil, and I can tolerate the occasional social commentary as long as the tongue is lodged firmly in the cheek (which it almost always was), but “New Generation” lacks the irony or absurd humor that I’m used to with Oingo Boingo political statements. To me, this just comes across as one of those “Wake Up, Sheeple! The media is controlling your opinions!”-type tirades that was done much more subtly on Good For Your Soul‘s “Who Do You Want To Be” and much more effectively later on Boingo’s “Insanity”. It’s an interestingly structured song, and I like cool echoed horns during the choruses, but this is the longest track on the album and it essentially plods along on a couple of chords and a monotone delivery. AND THEN, there’s an even more monotone bridge where Elfman does his best to rattle off a diatribe using his lowest available quasi-guttural register. I consider this the album’s only real misstep.

The energy on the second half doesn’t reach the same heights that the first three songs achieved, but it’s respectable all the same. No stinkers! “We Close Our Eyes” is a stinker on the surface, though! It’s all ballad-y and shit, but oh my god is it a contender for the most beautiful melody ever cooked up by these nerds. And it’s actually uplifting too, no lyrical dissonance this time. It’s the kind of song you’d find at the end of a John Hughes movie if John Hughes movies were about death and dying and old people falling in love, like, right before they die. Plus, I’m a sucker for the dang ol’ accordion all over the place. “Not My Slave” continues the sentimental sappiness; it’s about love and commitment again, as are a lot of songs out there in the world. But are you hearing that melody? Jumping Jesus, where was all this songwriting talent on Dead Man’s Party? On “My Life” we’re once again back to personal mental anguish, but we’re not going to stoop to manic ska are we? Oh no no no, it’s all slow funk, baby! “Outrageous” nearly reaches the energy level of the earlier tracks, likely the catchiest number on Boi-Ngo, and for my money, with all the synthy New Wave flourishes, it’s the closest thing to classic Oingo Boingo that we’ll ever hear again in our lives! Also, consider this one a good subtle social commentary example with the word “outrageous” itself being a prominent overwrought buzzword of its time, and Danny basically saying “fuck you, nothing is outrageous”. I love it! This is how it’s done, stupid!

What if I wrapped this review up without even mentioning the final song “Pain”? Grrr! Whoops! “Pain” combines all the good elements of Boi-Ngo thus far and distills it into a fun, pompous, rhythmically infectious, hook-laden closer. And if that weren’t enough, surprise violin accompaniment pops up between the choruses. It’ll make ya wanna press play on the album all over again!

All right, am I singing the praises too highly? Could be, I don’t know. It’s hard to make a case against the solid songwriting, production, musical ideas, and sequencing. Lyrics, of course, tend to plow headfirst through the cheese, but with melodies this strong it just all fits very well anyway. I’m not cringing just yet. Enjoy this underrated and largely unrecognized Oingo Boingo stepping stone before we all get completely soured on what is still yet to come, my friends. If you think this is cheese, then you will NOT be prepared for what’s going to hit you next! Oh man, you have no idea! Get ready!

GOOD