Loggins & Messina

I suppose this compilation deserves points for hummability and getting it over with--eight of the ten songs are from the first two albums, so it's about time--but there's just too much to forgive. The memory of K. clapping his hands like a seal while exhorting a Cheech & Chong crowd to "boogie." The memory of FM programmers offering up "You Mama Don't Dance" as a tribute to the uptempo demons. The note that compares that song to "Wilbur Harrison's version of `Kansas City'" (it's Wilbert, you ignorami, and it sure ain't "Kansas City"). And especially the note that connects the even limper "My Music" to "the simplicity of the early Chuck Berry days." The nerve. Chuck Berry had genius, energy, soul, spunk, wit, irreverence, brains, urgency, a good beat, a criminal record, a number-one record, brown skin, a pompadour, and a duckwalk. All they've got is a million dollars--or less, I hope. (Grade: C+)