Marcy Playground's modern-rock hit, "Sex and Candy," is an unappetizing artificial-sweetener marriage of down-tempo Nirvana chords and greasy Dave Matthews frat-minstrel sensitivity concerning a sad sack strung out on hippie lingo ("Dig it," "Yeah, mama") and caffeine. The group itself is mainly Minneapolis-to-New York refugee John Wozniak; the outmoded 1992-grunge opportunism of his song titles ("Poppies," "Opium," "One More Suicide," "The Shadow of Seattle") might be forgivable if they came with riffs attached. But his smarmfully jangling pals don't quite sound like a real band yet – they locate their beat in the blank space between rural Deadhead foot dragging and Prince at his most marshmallow. Marcy Playground sets icky new standards for commercial-post-alternative callowness. (RS 780)

CHUCK EDDY