"Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?" It’s the question from High Fidelity that all music nerds have pondered. And with John Cusack currently sullying his fine name in the appalling piece of turd 2012 (Really? He can catch up to a plane by running? That’s good), right now we need to bask in his good times more than ever. So after careful consideration, Mine’s On The 45 has decided the way to answer this question is quite simple – go out to the West End markets and buy a snazzy Mood Ring, just to see what will happen. Apart from looking like an enormous fancy boy, will each song affect my mood differently? LET THE SCIENCE BEGIN!

From the brains of Sydneyside self-professed grunge folk Kids At Risk comes the most surprising track of the week – the adorably sweet guitar pop of Sugar. What’s most surprising about this self-descriptive song is that it takes a concerted effort to see anything grunge about it. A playful melody, alternating and building rounds of vocals, and lyrics that say you’re so sweet that "you’re like sugar"... it sounds far more like the Archies than Alice In Chains. This is P-O-P. But look past the genre stereotypes and you’ll find a group that’s got a shadowy side (it all ends with Obesity / Diabetes) and is clearly infatuated with the bouncy end of the Pixies’ work. Taking Frank Black’s ability to intertwine the dark and light into something that fulfils the listener’s need for both, Sugar is pop music that’s not over-glossed, over-annoying or over-twee – granulated but unrefined. Dusting the icing sugar off the mood ring, it’s shining a crystal blue, which apparently means ‘Relaxed, At Ease’, and despite the early genre-confusion, that’s exactly what Sugar provides.

A rhythm section that could only be described as thumping. Lyrics that promise to protect someone no matter what. A soaring choir chorus. An orchestra so emotionally savvy that every string that’s plucked simultaneously plucks at your heart. Get out of my way! I need to stand up, hand on chest, and sing this song at the top of my lungs! Take that, people within earshot! I’m emoting things – defiantly! Oh my, I got a bit worked up, but that’s what an Anthem does I guess. Not our national anthem, granted, and unless you’re a 12 year-old, not Dance Floor Anthem either. But a song that’s steadfastly focused on one idea – in this case, when you fall, Whitley will be there to pick you up – and uses every musical means it can to make this point seem like the noblest and most important thing you can conceive – that’s something you can’t ignore. Of course, plenty of people tack anthems together so obviously that you can’t help but feel manipulated. Whitley knows better, and although every lush layer in Head, First, Down has a purpose, it’s so breathless that you’ll be happy to let it sweep all around you and carry you with it. Oh that’s right, the mood ring. It’s glowing a vibrant amber hue, which according to the mutterings of the crazy person who sold it to me, means I’m feeling somewhere between ‘Adventurous’, and ‘Stimulated (Non-Sexually)’. Sounds about right. Although this Whitley character is a good looking dude…

Thank goodness I wasn’t writing mood ring-based singles reviews back in high school, because a 15 year-old Mine’s On The 45 column talking about Janet Jackson would have just glowed a dazzling, blinding purple – or ‘Sensuality’. That is if I could keep my hand still long enough to get a decent view. Ahem. But Janet’s tenure as a pop star in her own right is a remarkable feat – it’s been 27 years now since her first album, and 20 years since one of R&B-pop’s landmark records, Rhythm Nation 1814. Her shine has come off a bit during this decade, but unlike many of her original peers, she’s still unquestionably a star. Make Me does what her last few records have failed to do, and that is remind us why her gritty-round-the-edges, demure-but-aggressive brand of sexually charged pop engaged the world in the first place. Part disco, part dirty electro, all encased within a pop song that recalls songs like If or Throb on the janet. album, for the first time in years it seems feasible that kids who didn’t grow up on Janet might be putting her on their own iPods. And never you mind what colour the mood ring is showing…

To the doubters of the mood ring’s powers – behold my knuckle! As soon as I Know You’re Real, the debut single from the new Melbourne electronic-dreamscape trio Love Connection begins, the gemstone turns a swirly, creamy yellow, like that milk you left out on the bench. According to the barely scientific reference texts, that means the wearer is feeling ‘Imaginative’. If you’ve heard this group, you can’t deny that’s a perfect match. The lead track is a spirited trip through the meadow of psychedelic pop, a charming but over-too-soon two minute sprint that makes you feel like you got where you were going, but missed the sights along the way. This is rectified by the B-side Lost City of Gold, a six minute excerpt from a 23 minute piece that the trio perform live in its entirety, and Love Connection take advantage of this extra time to create a deep otherworldly groove. Somewhere between the cosmic voyages of Midnight Juggernauts and the fantasy hypercolour of MGMT, it’s this ability to really capture the carefree and optimistic joy of pure pop without becoming trite that makes Love Connection’s debut album, out next year, one to look forward to. Don’t doubt the mood ring!

What does black mean? Nothing in our ‘post-race society’ apparently, and isn’t it nice to live in a world free of racial hate and xenophobia, where nobody has to fuck off, cos we’re not full. Hmmm, that was about 12 brands of off-track. But I ask the question, because listening to Ben Harper’s latest tune, my mood ring started glistening a deep shade of black. Black, according to AskHugo, means I’m ‘Tense, Harassed’. But Ben Harper’s such a laidback bluesy/rootsy kinda guy these days, right? Is this thing busted? Yes to the former, and No to the latter. With his latest collective Relentless 7, Harper’s making some of the most traditional blues in his career, and true to the old school blues, he’s in the shit. "Mistake number one / I made it three times today / We best talk over how there’s / Nothing left to say". He doesn’t sound cheery. But hey Ben, who’s done you wrong? "Never trust a woman"... I’m sorry? "Never trust a woman who loves the blues" Geez, someone’s been burned bad. It’s not precisely a healthy motto to live by, but in terms of getting some bite back into his vocals, it sounds like a bit of blues might have been what Ben needed.

SIMON TOPPER