If there are two things I can't get enough of it's masturbating and songs about masturbating. Prettypony perfectly satisfies at least one of my needs.

Their debut full-length is riddled with addictive and salacious morsels that make one marvel: man, how much sex do these Indiana folks get? Their sound may be indebted to the Buzzcocks but their lyrics owe more to Pansy Division. Riding atop bouncy beds of crunchy guitar pop are confessional tales of both hetero- and homosexual conquest and frustration -- "I'm not straight. I give it up on the first date. Not looking for a soul mate. Do you want to fuck?". Anything and everything naughty is subject to Prettypony's clever touch, including a housewife's first foray into amateur porn and an oh-so-horny robot who blows more than his fuse. Every subject touched by this outfit is somehow dirty, but the catchy tunes have a way of making you forget you're singing along to tales of debauchery and fornication. Life is good.

Many years ago another band, Suburban Lawns, ventured into this same land where irresistible pop and devilish lyrics were bedfellows. But while the Lawns' tales of janitors with nuclear-charged genitals lost their charm over time, Prettypony's tunes only get better upon repeat listening. The nearly spoken male vocals of Greg der Ananian weave with the more ethereal call of the band's two female vocalists to create a scrumptious web of cotton candy that's hard to resist.