XTC

Upsy Daisy Assortment (Geffen)

Screw what Renton said about smack in Trainspotting (the whole "take your best orgasm and multiply it by 10,000 and it still doesn't come close to it" bit). This is it-the absolute XTC. Upsy Daisy Assortment is so damn gratifying that it makes me cry from elation even after the 40th time on repeat.

These Brit pop gods from Swindon haven't released a new album since Nonsuch in 1992, nor have they toured since 1982, after their erratic lead singer Andy Partridge had a nervous breakdown and said no more to the road. The band released a double greatest hits album last September, Fossil Fuels: XTC Singles from 1977 to 1992 (Virgin), but it still left die-hard fans fretting for more of XTC's stirring whirring.

Andy Boy, who found XTC with his chums Colin Moulding, Barry Andrews and Terry Chambers back in 1975, is an eccentric indeed. He likes to wear lace. He gives proctology exams to Barbie dolls. His signature saffron specs that give him almost a malarial glow rarely leaves his face. Queer? Never.

Upsy Daisy reads like an irresistible novel, rendered in off-center chameleon pop, that takes you on a sinuous emotional ride through the good times and bad. Following the Aristotelian view of drama, XTC renders thick, resounding plots and subplots with songs like "Respectable Street," "Senses Working Overtime," "Funk Pop A Roll" and "This World Over."

The burgeoning tension finally detonates as we reach "Dear God," the album's climax. Incidentally the 13th track (wink, wink), this startling cry of an atheist, with a voice louder than mere skepticism, has been bringing tears to my eyes and chills down my spine every morning-ever since I began this warped but cathartic ritual with the purchase of Skylarking. (Mm-mm-mm-There's nothing like a cup of freshly ground blasphemy to start up my day.)

A pleasant denouement ensues with a series of my all-time favorites, "The Mayor of Simpleton," "King for a Day," "Chalkhills and Children" and "The Disappointed," while "The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead," finishes it off with a complete sense of closure.