Some have said this Mr. Ariel Pink character is some sort of "outsider" artist a la Daniel Johnston, although the fact that he lives in Los Angeles and seems quite capable of writing, performing, producing, recording and even releasing his own material would belie that assertion. Imagine, if you will, an FM radio station that plays pop/rock hits from the '60s, '70s and '80s starts transmitting its broadcasts into deep space, and is received by some very strange aliens who know nothing of Earth culture. They assume these sounds are a form of direct communication with them, and they reply by naively trying to replicate the sounds they hear. "Worn Copy" is the result. Many of these songs could be long-lost psychedelic nuggets, or melodic 70's pop, or New Wave obscurities, played on a standard, if lo-fi, guitar/bass/drums/synth lineup. However, they're smothered in tape hiss and echo and all manner of bizarre sound effects--some songs seem to be interrupted by advertising jingles! The vocals are often hard to decipher, but considering the song "Oblivious Peninsula" seems to mainly consist of repeating that nonsense phrase, one gets the feeling it doesn't really matter, and what to make of a title like "Immune to Emotion"? It also doesn't matter if this is the product of a genuine outsider or just some dadaist art prank, 'cause in the end it comes off as a sincere, but gloriously failed, attempt by some odd individual, gripped both by nostalgia and obsession, to recreate a time when "lying in bed, with the covers pulled up over your head/radio played so no one could hear it" (as the Ramones once put it) was just the oultimate in bliss. In short: one the strangest, but most interesting, pop albums you're ever likely to hear.