LISTEN TO EVERY SONG on Billy Joel's new album exactly once. It's the most effective way for one-time or current fans of the Long Island pop star to purge any remaining faith they may have dutifully maintained in this man's music. The Nylon Curtain leaves no doubt: This once poignant chronicler of middle-class America has become a terribly frazzled music industry giant, offering a slick package with no redeemable contents.

Billy Joel, in his ascent to unrivaled commercial success, never made us dance. In fact, as he carved out his comfy pop niche, he never made us do or feel much of anything. But on Piano Man, The Stranger and 52nd Street he described just enough familiar American experiences with enough pleasing, if not arresting music. We bought his albums and made him popular.

The adverse effects of this success have been fairly evident on his recent albums, as simplistic, vacant songs replace textured and emotionally complicated ones. The sensitive perspective conveyed in songs like "Just the Way You Are" became blurred with hedonism and pretentiousness in "Sleeping With The Television On" and "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me." But in his latest effort. Joel confirms his status as a songwriter swept up in his own whirlwind fame and alienated from the normality he used to celebrate and glorify. The Nylon Curtain so emphatically reveals Joel's emotional detachment that the album serves a worthy purpose. With this complete songwriting tumble, Joel can essentially he enjoyed for his previous work and officially forgotten.

Although he is now unable to perceive and describe familiar moment in modern life, Joel apparently has perceived his own slide into sweet-sounding fluff, and on The Nylon Curtain he desperately tries to do something about it. In a last-gasp attempt to attain relevance, he sings about Issues: you know, Unemployment, Social Pressure, Viet Nam, and, of course, Sesame Street. Instead of seizing an elevated song-writing status. Joel glaringly reveals his own detachment from the emotions and situations he describes to others.

The music doesn't help matters. Joel was in a motorcycle accident last year which injured his hand, thereby hampering his piano playing. But instead of cutting back to simplistic piano and equally straightforward musical accompaniment. Joel has souped up and cluttered his songs with synthesizer zanies and special effects. The tunes are about as endearing as the cold, distant stories told.

DON'T FORGET, though, that these are not just any poor songs. These are Important Ones confronting modern day issues. Apparently seeing the potential listening public among the growing ranks of the unemployed. Joel begins The Nylon Curtain with "Allentown," an upbeat ode to those who are out of work in the Pennsylvanian factory town. Joel sprinkles insincere comments about broken American promises in between the vacuous refrain "And we're living here in Allentown." "Iron and coke and chromium steel," Joel chirps cheerily.

The other current concern which Joel chooses to patronize is the plight of the Vietnam War veterans. In "Goodnight Saigon," he launches into a sappy, unoriginal tribute to motors, rotors, lost friends and chilling war memories. "Our arms were heavy, but our bellies were tight," he croons. Between the beginning and ending sounds of a helicopter, courtesy of a synthesizer, Joel shows his desperation for relevance by trying to conjure up vivid, fresh images. After commenting on how "we played our Doors tapes" which shows that he saw Apocalypse Now before creating this song. Joel dramatically declares. "And it was dark, so dark at night." Adhering to milquetoast pop style, the song even lacks a political or emotional stand: "And who was wrong? And who was right?"

Billy Joel asks a lot of questions on The Nylon Curtain. In the hit single "Pressure," he spews:

Psych 1, Psych 2

What do you know?

All your life is Channel 13

Sesame Street

What does it mean?

I'll tell you what it means

PRESSURE!