When was the last time you heard a really good pop love song? I'm not talking about the schmaltzy crap that's served up on a regular basis by Celine, Mariah or Toni. I'm not thinking of the "let me screw you raw, baby" garbage from Boyz II Men and Mase that passes for "soul" music. And I'm definitely not talking about the "new" pop/country trend currently worming its way through the music industry. I'm talking about something with a jangly guitar and a heartbroken singer, relating his tale of woe while chords that make you melt strum away in the background.

Really good pop love songs are somewhat of a lost art form. But Michael Shelley resurrects it with a vengeance on his new record, Too Many Movies. For Shelley, it's all about the songs and the feeling. There's no fancy production getting in the way, no samples or electronic beats thrown in to translate the record's "hipness" to the alternateen crowd. The closest he comes to self-indulgence is the strings-only arrangement for the tender ballad "Summer, I Pissed You Away," and that's beautiful enough to come off as a successful risk. What you'll get for the price of a single CD is 13 great songs about girls.

This isn't a bad thing, folks. Take a good look at the music you've been listening to over the past few months and honestly ask yourself just how many of the artists pay any attention to songwriting craft, or to how best to communicate their message through song. Probably not a lot. That's not to say that complexity and mystery are flaws in pop music; they're perhaps the greatest achievements one can strive for. And it's also not to say that Shelley's songs are stupid, or too easy to warrant repeated listening. There's just an elegance to the songwriting and performance on Movies that you don't hear a lot of anymore in pop records. You certainly don't hear it on many indie record releases, which is what makes the album all the more refreshing.

The best song on Movies is possibly the first, "Baby's in a Bad Mood." It features a simple guitar/bass/drum approach, with an organ thrown in for effect. You'll hear some of those melting chords on this one, and Shelley's vocal delivery cleverly casts the male in the position of the bruised lover who's just waiting for his Juliet to be happy again. There's more of that wounded man throughout the album, which is another big part of Shelley's appeal. His personality as a songwriter--a tender guy who's just looking for a break in love--comes through in every song. Fortunately, he's much more than just a pathetic whimperer who needs a woman's touch. In listening to Movies, you just get the sense that he's loved before and he'll love again, and we're catching him between the two. Like most of us dumb schmoes, he's looking for "The Girl With the Light in Her Eyes."

I suppose that Shelley could be characterized as a whiner or a wimp based on Too Many Movies. But to see him that way is to miss the real point: he's a sensitive, vulnerable male songwriter in a way that isn't embarassing to other guys. That vulnerability comes through in every song on Movies, and it's what makes the album such a great listen time and again. Women probably pity him a bit, and guys can certainly sympathize. It's rare that a male singer wears his heart on his sleeve without coming off as a pathetic wuss, but Michael Shelley pulls it off. He's the guy sitting in the coffee shop with a donut and a newspaper, waiting patiently for the love of his life to walk in. You can call it schmaltz; you can call it wasteful sentiment. I reserve those terms for Celine and Mariah. I'll call it great songwriting and affecting performances, which is just about everything you can ask for in a good pop record.