If there's one thing to feel relieved about where our nostalgia-crazed moment is concerned, it's that we as a society may finally get around to losing all that annoying, self-aware awkwardness about vintage loverman R&B. The coke-chic irony, the automatic equation of wah-wah guitar with mustachioed porno kitsch, the focus on caricaturized libido at the expense of the chops of the singers who gave voice to it-- that all has to go. The alt/indie sphere did its best to work through those issues via stage-winking outlets like Har Mar Superstar and , but they were still steps towards an ability to approach the influence of Prince or Michael Jackson or Hall and Oates without requiring 15 layers of self-conscious distancing.