Gag me with a spoon? No need.

Not everything from the ‘80s has aged well, and bands like Tears for Fears and the Human League should consider it an accomplishment that their songs are still affectionately played over the radio. These are the sounds of awkward high school dances and endearing John Hughes movies, made by people who not only forgive sappiness, but encourage it.

Kamtin Mohager, the musician single-handedly powering The Chain Gang of 1974, is probably too young to remember when the Cure released Disintegration or when Phil Collins hit his stride, though he surely wishes he could. His music has served as nothing but an ode to the decade that killed disco and gave birth to gated reverb. His latest album, Honey Moon Drips, is dramatic, overly sentimental and undeniably entwined in the spirit of the ‘80s. Mohager indulges in excess, yet he does so on a tight schedule; most of the tracks clock in with remarkable precision at three and a half minutes, almost as if someone told him that the length was perfect for radio primetime.

These remarks may appear to be critical. They are not intended to be. Honey Moon Drips earns zero points for originality, but more importantly, it survives as a guilty pleasure. Like M83 and the 1975, The Chain Gang of 1974 finds ways to be fun simply by mimicking other fun bands. Mohager doesn’t try to escape the ridiculousness of the decade’s trends, and as a result, Honey Moon Drips contains enough shameless energy to upstage a less enthusiastic copycat act.

For any listeners who are doubting their capacity for nostalgia at this point in the review, it may help to know that “Do You Mind?”–the album’s leading single–will offer an early chance to test the waters. The synthesizers are bombastic, the guitars are unrestrained and Mohager refuses to stop lamenting how an unforgettable night of partying is finally over (“Maybe I’ll lay in the garden/ But I don’t think I can sleep”). Oh, the highs! The lows! Roll the credits of Sixteen Candles right this minute! It’s funny that the song is named what it is, since the narrator seems to have no problem with inviting himself into a one-sided conversation. The lyrics, however, seem secondary to the instruments, which are saturated with production and glamor.

The track doesn’t have to work for you, nor does the rest of the album, which essentially follows suit. It somehow did for this reviewer, whose tolerance for this stuff may well extend past others’. Ultimately–and this idea is necessary to buy into Mohager’s music–the unabashed whimsy of the ‘80s is here to stay, seeping into everything from Stranger Things (E.T., Stand By Me) to Sex Education (Sixteen Candles). If Mohager didn’t make Honey Moon Drips, someone else would have.