The Cars – ‘The Cars’
There wasn’t any single place where new wave began. Throughout the 1970s, genres like power pop, punk, and album-oriented rock were happily existing in their own worlds. But by the end of the decade, those worlds began to collide. As acts like Talking Heads, Blondie, and Elvis Costello sought to shed the “punk” label that never really fit them in the first place, a new embrace of pop hooks, dance rhythms, and synthesisers were beginning to take hold. But the reality was that some bands had already perfected that sound without ever entering the dingy clubs and ragged areas of punk rock. The Cars were never punk, but they were playing new wave before just about anybody else.
Formed in Boston in 1976, The Cars had direct lines back to another New England new wave pioneer, Jonathan Richman. Drummer David Robinson was a core member of The Modern Lovers, while Benjamin Orr and Rick Ocasek got one of their early band names courtesy of Richman. After experimenting with traditional rock and folk, Ocasek and Orr had found their niche: a streamlined version of pop rock that combined angular guitar riffs with futuristic synth sounds. The pair would trade off lead vocals, and Ocasek would be the band’s songwriter.
It all sounds remarkably simple, and that’s the secret to the band’s 1978 debut album, The Cars. Across just over half an hour, The Cars (mostly) get rid of all the bells and whistles. Instead, space is left open for highly-memorable choruses, iconic riffs, trend-setting keyboards, and some of the wittiest songwriting that had ever made its way onto the radio. There’s still room for some mind-bending effects and playful touches, but there is absolutely no fat to be found on The Cars.
From the opening lurch of ‘Good Times Roll’ the mood is fully set. The basic framework of the album is that, with one exception each, the front half belongs to Ocasek, and the back half belongs to Orr. Because the two have such similar voices, it’s often hard to tell who is in front of the microphone without looking at the album credits. Ocasek and Orr are incredibly in sync throughout The Cars, leading the charge that allowed their fellow bandmates to stretch out and get weird.
‘Good Times Roll’ boils down Ocasek’s songwriting to its simplest elements: giddy fun, driving riffs, and unmatched pop hooks. The entire song gets flanged and filtered, whether it’s Elliot Easton’s rockabilly riffs or Robinson’s tumbling tom fills. Ocasek makes sure that none of the sonic elements gets in the way of his melody, outfitted with images of “rock and roll hair” just to keep things light and goofy.
What set The Cars apart from their contemporaries is that they were never afraid of pop. A song like ‘My Best Friend’s Girl’ is unapologetically aimed at the charts and hearts of pop audiences, all the way down to its brain-blasting handclaps. With just three chords, Ocasek lays out the basic plot of Rick Springfield’s ‘Jessie’s Girl’ a full three years before Springfield got there. It’s impossible to understate how quickly Greg Hawkes’ keyboard changed the entire landscape of rock music with one sweep across the stereo plane.
Without missing a beat, the band launches into Orr’s first lead vocal on the album, ‘Just What I Needed’. While Orr gets the spotlight, Hawkes’ robotic descending keyboard line and Easton’s razor-sharp lead guitar lines are just as essential to the song’s success. Ocasek and Orr work in tandem as rhythmic drivers, never wavering from their respective chugs on rhythm guitar and bass, respectively. The immediate candy-coated pop of ‘Just What I Needed’ gets cut with hard rock guitar solos and synth-pop keyboards, creating the blueprint for new wave before anyone else could quite wrap their heads around it.
The only time that The Cars gets cute is on ‘I’m In Touch With Your World’. With literal bells and whistles, along with vibraslap, wrench turns, computer blips, squelching saxophones and crashing glass, the song is as nonsensical and silly as anything that The Cars ever did. While it does have a memorable hook, ‘I’m In Touch With Your World’ veers a little bit too close to the edge of ridiculousness. It’s not as sharp as the rest of the album’s material, but instead serves as a bit of comic relief after the one-two-three punch of ‘Good Times Roll’, ‘My Best Friend’s Girl’, and ‘Just What I Needed’.
‘Don’t Cha Stop’ wraps up side one with pure energy. The band’s razor-sharp harmonies take the lead in the chorus, while the speed of the track brings The Cars as close to punk as they would ever dare to go. Hawkes’ keyboard work and Ocasek’s goofy lyrics keep the song from ever truly resembling the genre, but Easton’s guitar stabs and Robinson’s rollicking drums sound like they’re ready to get nasty.
Robinson’s drums are the first hook heard on ‘You’re All I’ve Got Tonight’, flanged across the sonic landscape in ways that seem obvious today but were downright revolutionary in the late 1970s. With its chromatic runs and stop-start rhythms, ‘You’re All I’ve Got Tonight’ requires The Cars to be preternaturally in sync with each other, with the risk of falling apart always around the corner. But once that insane chorus comes in, there’s no doubt that The Cars are one of the tightest bands in the world.
It’s up to Orr to see the rest of the album through. Slightly softer and less nasally than Ocasek, Orr was the more traditional frontman and lead vocalist. His delicate approach adds a kind of melancholy to ‘Bye Bye Love’ that Ocasek’s eccentric and endearingly nerdy voice can’t quite match. Even as the song begins to blast and explode around him, Orr remains unflappable at the centre of the track, bringing you in closer just as the opening riff returns for one final go-around.
For an entire generation, ‘Moving in Steroe’ would forever be divorced from The Cars and permanently implanted into Fast Times at Ridgemont High. But taken on its own merits, ‘Moving in Stereo’ shows off The Cars’ progression that would take hold with their subsequent albums: less guitar-focused and more concerned with the future of technology, specifically how synthesisers could be used at the forefront of their music. The hypnotic rabbit hole of ‘Moving in Stereo’ still has the ability to put audiences in a trance, even if there’s no visual stimulus to accompany it.
With the final swirling sounds of ‘All Mixed Up’ closing out the album, The Cars packs up and leaves before ever staying a moment too long. With all songs kept well below the five-minute mark, The Cars has a kind of focus and intensity that fell out of fashion in the extended jamming of 1970s rock music. The Cars were writing pop songs for rock audiences, and as they evolved, they strayed farther and farther from the traditional trappings of rock.
The 1980s would be good to The Cars. Although they never managed to replicate the runaway success of their debut album, the group transitioned toward a synth-heavy pop direction highlighted by hit songs like ‘Magic’ and ‘Drive’. But in terms of albums, nothing even comes close to the immediate power of The Cars. As both a stage setter and a definitive statement, The Cars remains one of the most astounding debut albums of all time. It’s also the foundation on which the entirety of new wave was built. Nobody can take that away from The Cars and their monumental debut.