Okay, the truth is finally out: I'm a pussy. My glowing assessment of the Aluminum Group's Plano is all the proof anyone needs. Tasting these delectable, sugary pop delights allowed me to discover and nurture a cuddly, warm, poodle- like side of myself that's actually kind of liberating.

Plano takes me back to the early- '70s glory days of what would probably be referred to now as adult contemporary pop-- a sticky retro niche for the serious musician of today to mess with. Oh, the hours of embarrassing bliss AM radio brought in those days, honey- baby: the Fifth Dimension's "Up Up and Away," the Carpenters "Top of the World," the Grass Roots, B.J. Thomas. And don't forget the Association, especially ("Windy" and "Cherish.") Come on, fellow pussies, sing with me: "Who's reachin' out to capture a moment/ Everyone knows it's Win-dy.") It's hard not to yearn for those innocent pre- Kindergarten years, spending the day chillin' at Grandma's house watching "Green Acres" reruns, making pea and green bean sculptures, and grooving to this non-intrusive brand of wimp-rock that even granny could tolerate. Ah, the soothing majesty of those muted horn sections and elegant piano chords answering the syrupy, impossibly- effeminate vocals and ridiculously gooey lyrics.

Not surprisingly, sugar n' sweetness are recurring motifs on Plano. But as soon as you get the gist of the near- perfect pop confection "Chocolates," ("They substitute the telegram for the fax machine/ What did you substitute me with? Am I bringing you down/ When I'm bringing you candy?"), you realize that these guys avoid stale lovey- dovey platitudes that so many Mr. Sensitive songwriters rely upon. Under a seemingly saccharine coating are songs oozing with accomplished songcraft and keen observations-- their facility with words and droll wit would be enough to make Morrissey cream in his jeans.

The music itself is tough to pigeonhole. Celestial string sections give way to Moogs, trumpets, a twangy Duane Eddy guitar at times, and various tape loops and sound collages. Is it Cocktail Nation? Is it Techno? Disco? Trip-hop? It's hard to say.

Meanwhile, the Aluminum Group shows a little Bacharachian penchant for penning some of the most delicious choruses around. Just get a load of "Sad Gay Life," an exceedingly smart, tragicomic portrait of a heterosexual- at- heart trapped reluctantly in the vice-grip of fashionable homosexuality:" You resist what they talk about/ Their conventions they are so played out/ Welcome to your sad gay life/ 'Cause a mister suits you well when he's the master of your house/ And you're wishing that you never get out." It's a slyly sardonic commentary on the restrictions incurred by having a single, fixed sexual identity. "Storytime," on the other hand, has a feel that's reminiscent of Pink Floyd's classic opus "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" if it were stripped to its bare essentials. "Sunday Morning" is an adorable ode to sleeping late while "all of god's children" suffer in church. The beautiful sitar- laced "Photograph" is about a former free- spirited girlfriend now married and playing by her domineering husband's "stinking rules."

So the next time you feel like exploring the latent cream-puff dwelling within you, put on a robe and slippers, sit back in that La-Z-Boy recliner, light a clove cigarette, and let the Aluminum Group's guilty- pleasure- filled Plano gently fondle those tightly- wound heart- strings.

-Michael Sandlin