Consumer Warning: The Frogs' official 1988 debut, newly reissued on Jim O'Rourke's Moikai imprint, contains material that may not even offend your grandmother. If you buy this album expecting to hear the kind of explicit, uproarious comedy splattered all over 1989's It's Only Right and Natural, and especially 1996's My Daughter the Broad, you may be slightly disappointed.

The Frogs show a more sly and subtle side of themselves here: quite a departure from the outrageous, potty-mouthed, child-eating, gay-baiting Frogs that Satan himself has come to fear over the years. Yet to be included at this embryonic stage are the homo-jokes, graphic sexual content, and drug-glorification songs, for starters. So why bother purchasing the album? Well, it does offer some extremely understated tongue-in-cheek numbers about premature burial, making love in public, psychological dysfunction, and a house used for communal orgies-- maybe not the kind of themes Bono or Morrissey would tackle, but certainly tame compared to later Frogs tracks like "Grandma Sitting in the Corner with a Penis in Her Hand Going 'No, No, No, No, No" and "Which One of You Gave My Daughter the Dope?"

Not that I don't fall for the ironic charm of numbers like "I'm a Jesus Child" or the evangelical parody "F'd Over Jesus." The record certainly foreshadows future impious fun, namely "God is Gay" and "Thank God I Died in the Car Crash." But other than harmless cynicism and some childish humor here and there, The Frogs comes off as a fairly pure and innocent pop album. Just listen to a baroque cream-puff like "C-R-Y" or "Funhouse," a cute song about some house of ill-repute where "clothes are not needed." And you don't have to be a world-class linguist to understand what sort of pussy we're dealing with on the swirling faux orch-pop of "Persian Cat:" "She's my Persian Cat/ She makes me meow forever.../ I love to pet her fur." Pretty sly, Frogs! And simply put, "Hades High School" is guilelessly corny and ridiculous.

Furthermore, the record was produced by former super-non-producer/angry white guy Steve Albini, best known for his unflappable anti-mercenary ethics and steadfast reluctance to work with the Pixies, the Breeders, Bush and Nirvana. Here, Albini strays from his own foolproof anti-production ethic and actually does a swell job. The Frogs must have inspired him to experiment, since he failed to adhere to his own strict set of rules: 1) refuse to let group tune guitars, as a collective show of defiance against status quo standard tuning, 2) have the vocalist scream lyrics through a megaphone, 3) hold the recording session in Pa's garage using malfunctioning Peavey Rage amps with the gain cranked to neighbor-complaint levels, 4) add treble, 5) add more treble, then record the resultant din on a microcassette recorder, 6) send the tiny tape to a huge label, including a note telling penguin suits to suck his dick if they don't like it. 7) Suits love it, and Albini subsequently makes more money than God.

Anyhow, while still not quite wholesome enough to be found on the average suburban mom's shopping list, the Frogs' official debut is certainly a far cry from 1996's My Daughter the Broad, and sounds more like a product of its era than you might imagine. Think of ABC, Love and Money, or Men Without Hats with a little smarmy irreverence foaming under their bubbly soda-pop surface. Sure, there may not be much resembling the Frogs' infamous brand of sick humor here, but there is some reasonably clever, suggestive songwriting going on. Whoop-de-doo.

-Michael Sandlin