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I never got the sex so much from ABBA. To me, ABBA was auteur bubblegum music, kind of like Boyce and Hart's self-sung creations but writ on a huge scale. It was playful, sure, but with the formality of flirtation. The peppy stuff everyone knows is indelible, sure (personally, I have to underline "Ring Ring" - the combo punch of the kick drum 'n' guitar still packs a wallop). But ABBA also had mournful, numb epics like "Eagle" and "Lay All Your Love On Me". You can call it overwrought, but there's nothing cheesy about those dark-discotheque cuts.
When people talk about ABBA as a guilty pleasure, I turn off. If you can't explain your love of the joyous propulsion of "On and On and On" or "Waterloo," or the pulsing putdowns of "Does Your Mother Know," or the neat motorik of "The Visitors," well, ya might as well push 'stop' right now.
