Of all the millions of subgenres of pop music that exist today, one of the most fascinating to follow is sexually-explicit music that is in no way, shape or form erotic to anybody save the creators themselves. Outlaw country led by iconoclastic rebels David Allen Coe and Waylon Jennings, for instance, was saturated with profane ditties about truck stops that couldn’t even turn on a bespectacled 16-year-old Catholic ham-radio operator.

Sex-core techno, championed mainly by lecherous California DJ Ron D Core, spliced random adult film samples over ridiculously sped up Gabber beats to the point of comic hilarity. Rap-metal act Hot Action Cop, sadly best known for appearing on the forgettable video game “Hot Pursuit 2,” also is heavy on the hedonistic pillow talk, but it errs on the side of irritating disposability rather than endearing novelty.

The album’s cover art features a female peace officer menacingly clutching a billy club and sidearm whilst clad in snug blue hot pants and a midriff-baring work shirt with thigh-high vinyl boots. Just in case you are still not privy to the overall bacchanalian theme, the songs are appropriately titled with suggestive names like “Club Slut” and “Goin’ Down On It.” Consider the not-so-subtle lyrics of the group’s debut single, “Fever For The Flava,” a carefully penned ode to the combined joys of premarital couplings and Pringles potato chips: “And did I mention, hey pay attention/Gonna take that booty to the nudie dimension.” These people make Kid Rock look like Michel Foucault. It is rather unfortunate that the tradition of glossy album models did not die out with the days of the Cars and Great White. It is even more of a shame that Hot Action Cop could watch the “smell the glove” scene from “Spinal Tap” and not even get the joke.

Nathan Hall welcomes comments at [email protected]