antiMUSIC is pleased to welcome aboard with Chuck DiMaria, who will be giving us his 2 cents every week on a variety of music topics.

As always the views expressed by the writer do not neccessarily reflect the views of antiMUSIC or the iconoclast entertainment group

You want to know why the Partridge family worked? Because of Keith and Laurie, that's why. All the girls wanted Keith, all the guys wanted Laurie.

Because let's face it, Greg Brady came across as kind of a pussy and Marsha Brady was way too high maintenance for my taste.

And the Partridge family had way better songs. I never quite forgave the Brady's for that homage to puberty, "Time to Change".

"I Can Feel Your Heartbeat" blows that song away.

And let's not forget that Shirley Partridge had to raise those kids all by her self. No husband, no housekeeper. And Reuben Kincaid wasn't exactly bending over backwards to help out around the house, now was he? Was that woman a pro-feminist iconoclast or what? (And she had to drive the freakin' tour bus as well.)

And I mentioned Laurie was a hottie, right?

So will someone please explain to me why they ("They" being VH-1) are scouring the face of the Earth to find the "New" Partridge Family? Are you kidding me?

Ok, kids�and away we go:

First of all, this was the actual 70's, and you ain't gonna recreate that sense of schmaltz, no matter how hard you try. I lived through the 70's, and trust me when I tell you that "That Seventies Show" is about as accurate a portrayal of 70's life as Laverne & Shirley was to the 50's.

It's one thing to go to wardrobe if you need some 70's-style clothes because you want to look funny, it's entirely another to go to the store and buy them because you want to look cool. It's a different mindset.

And here's something else that you need to remember about the Partridge Family; they were practically devoid of talent.

Yeah, sure, David Cassidy could sing and play. Yeah, sure, Shirley Jones had an Academy Award.

But that was it. Period, end of freakin' story.

Danny Partridge couldn't play bass, Laurie couldn't play piano, Chris couldn't play drums, and Tracy couldn't play tambourine.

And you gotta be pretty hopeless not to be able to the tambourine, kids.

I'm also pretty sure none of �em could sing.

And of course all of those hits were written by somebody else. (Thank God for Wes Farrell and Tony Romeo.)

So what was the big deal about the show? Are you kidding me? Who wouldn't want to be in a rock band with your brothers and sisters (Remember that we were children; we didn't know any better!), driving around in a bitchin' bus, with a laugh track that played every single time you made a joke?

That's pretty much my eight-year-old fantasy! (Well, that and Laurie Partridge, of course.)

And let's not forget that those tracks had hooks like ABBA songs on steroids; ya heard �em once and ya never forgot �em.

And now there's gonna be another Partridge Family?

Yeah, right. And Paris Hilton will never make another sex tape. (Wait�too late.)

The thing that cracks me up the most is the fact that they're actually looking for people who have a measurable amount of talent. That's just funny to me, kids.

That was the appeal of the Partridge Family; you just knew it was fake and you didn't care. The Partridge had something like eighty-two commercially released songs and they never played a note on any of �em! (Keith and Shirley sang and that was about it.)

That, my friends, is absolute perfection. Talk about a fantastic answer to the turbulent, violent, "No One Gets Out Alive" sixties, but the feel-good sounds of David Cassidy's double-tracked vocals on "I Think I Love You"?

Now, if there going to put together a bunch of lip-syncing actors and get some of the best song writers out there to lay down some great hooks so we can all get into a better mood, then believe me when I tell ya I am all for it.

But, and I hate to be a misery-monger here, I just ain't feeling the happy vibe, if you know what I'm saying and I think you do.

I have this sense of impending doom - Kind of like when you ask your significant other, "What's wrong?" and they look at you with utter contempt and say, "Nothing, honey."

Ohhh, that's bad.

As I've been writing this piece, I've been taking a little jog-trot down memory lane by listening to some Partridge Family tracks. And I'm amazed. I haven't heard these tracks in decades and the moment a song starts, I can remember the track perfectly.

And that's a damn good song if it can do that.

Funny thing is I actually feel better, too. I mean, it's not exactly Prozac, but it's close. Hell, there's actually a smile on my face, and that's saying something.

I sincerely doubt that the new Partridge Family is going to have eighty-two commercial releases during their career. (I'll be amazed if they make it past two albums.)

And to put that in perspective, just take your favorite band and think about them for a second or two. Got it yet? Your favorite band � just think about them.

Now see if you can name eighty-two songs they released over their career. Ready? Go!

How's that for a little perspective?

You see, it wasn't the wackiness that ensued during that half-hour sitcom that endeared it to us all, it was the songs you could play over and over again with no commercial interruptions. That was the magic. It was nice to have a soundtrack to your childhood.

However, I wouldn't mind some great new two-and-a-half minute pop tracks for my collection, so part of me is hoping that if they're gonna do it, they at least do it right. But it's a slim hope at best.

Anyway, I'm sure VH-1 is gonna milk this for all the attention they can get their hands on just like Courtney Love after a three-day meth bender, but I'm content with my memories.

That's my two cents, now gimme my change and c'mon, get happy.

Chuck DiMaria is Los Angeles based musician, actor and antiMUSIC columnist (his resume goes on). Check out his website ChuckDiMaria.com for more of his writings, MP3s and more (be sure to read about his adventures in online dating!!) Plus be sure check out the site for his band Under Pressure.