I've always considered myself a fairly well-behaved human being. I always hold doors for people. I give up my seat to old ladies on the bus. And, until a few minutes ago, I rarely experienced moments of childish perversion. Unfortunately, my disappointment with the relative decency of Mike G's Sugar Daddy has shattered my illusions of being a truly decent person. Dammit.

I can't be blamed for expecting Sugar Daddy to be a sexually charged release (so to speak). Aside from the fact that "Mike G's Sugar Daddy" sounds like a '70s porno flick, the record has songs titled "Clothing Store Girl," "Anything You Want," "Asian Girl," "I'm So into You," and, perhaps most suggestive of all, "Plastic Monkeys." But while, at first glance, Sugar Daddy appears to be an over-the-top, raunchy romp, it isn't quite the decadent, morally absent record I was hoping for.

It did take me a while to figure this out. "Clothing Store Girl," with its plucked bass, smoky lounge fuzz, and deceivingly skit-like female vocal intro, suggested that Sugar Daddy would draw from Zappa, Ween, and New Wet Kojak. Sadly, my assumption was more than a little bit wrong. While both of the record's opening tracks kick off with some serious walking bass grooves, a suspicious resemblance to labelmates Enon surfaces as the songs progress. The garbage can percussion and jumbled breakbeats could have been lifted directly off Believo! And for all I know, they were.

To make matters worse, the album's lyrics, potentially so rife with delectable perversion, quickly degenerate to moronic goofiness. "Asian Girl," aside from containing the typical Asian musical stereotype of pentatonic scales and plucked harmonics, sports the chorus, "She is Asian/ I'm Caucasian/ Asian Girl." Thankfully, the song is also very, very short.

As for "Plastic Monkey," its lyrics are surprisingly inane and contrived. But it's appropriate, I guess, considering that it employs one of the most tired, uninventive chord structures in the history of rock music. Four chords, a guitar, and a harmonica may have been considered interesting 35 years ago, but I'd like to think we've evolved since Herman's Hermits.

Still, there's a certain appeal to the record. Mike G's attempts at "smooth talking" might be embarrassingly awkward, but they drip with irony. And hearing somebody whine, "Can I be your sugar daddy?" with no hint of assertiveness can be remarkably endearing. Still, aside from a few thematic differences, Mike G is covering territory that's already been strip-mined to the point of exhaustion. It seems logical enough to me-- great steps forward in songwriting are seldom made by people who express sentiments like, "I think I dress cool/ She picks out clothes that I don't even like/ But I buy them to make her happy."

-Matt LeMay