These sassy chatterboxes have an undeniable flair for wit. I gotta be blunt/Her spandex biker shorts were creepin' up the front/I could see her uterus, they catcall over a production that positively screams 1985. The FannyPack gals are backed by a couple of DJ dudes who play it simple, with low-IQ beats and cheesed-out Atari-era sound effects that create an irresistibly danceable atmosphere.
So Stylistic peters out partway through, and the creative exhaustion is palpable. Leaving aside the standard assortment of mindless skits and other throwaway filler, a number of tracks sound as if they were cobbled together from the cutting-room floor, including the endurance-testing "Sugar Daddy," three-plus minutes of an uninspired beat, a couple of computer-chip chirps and the words sugar daddy repeated nonstop. Critics have already crowed at length about the guilty pleasures of FannyPack, but at this point, all signs point to novelty act.