Ah, nothing quite like an album that's too irrelevant to bother trashing. A few minutes of web-surfing uncovers the factoid that Chris Barrows used to be in the Pink Lincolns, who may or may not have been a seminal Florida snot-punk band (it all depends on who you ask, I suppose). Now he's backed up by three fine-lookin' women in the Jackie Papers, making the most of his friendship with Screeching Weasel (I'm in Love was released on the Ben Weasel-run imprint Panic Button). Here, he continues to churn out the kind of stiff, sloppy three-chord punk rock that's about as exciting and interesting as a plant.

Musical and songwriting ability aside (we're talking about punk rock, after all), the one thing Barrows has going for him is his perfection of the "snotty" vocal. Unfortunately, on I'm in Love he's sneers and spits his way through such horrible lyrics that it pretty much makes the whole thing unlistenable. "I'm a liar and I think you're swell/ I'm a liar, please don't rot in hell." Witty! Ironic! Also witness the jaw-dropping stupidity of "Cripgirl" ("Cripgirl, cripgirl on my mind/ Cripgirl, throw your love gang sign/ Cripgirl, true I wanna hang/ I wanna be your one man gang") and the pointless geography lesson of "Antarctica" ("It's a hundred million years old/ It's an understatement to say it's fucking cold/ It's a very thick sheet of ice/ If you wanna get a suntan it isn't paradise"). Thank you, Chris Barrows, for your nuanced, incisive commentary on the human condition.

There are three positive things I'll say about I'm in Love, and then I'll shut up. One: the jagged, atonal riff of the title track is a welcome respite from the usual pedestrian Ramones rehashing. Two: lead guitarist Holiday Page is pretty hot, so I bet they really pack 'em in at shows. Three: the album's less than 12 minutes long, which just means that it's over that much faster.

-Nick Mirov