*

B*WITCHED

(Epic)

So they're the Irish Spice Girls complete with hilariously pro forma tin-whistle and fiddle moves. What those of us with no life wanna know is whether they'll remake the universe in their own image? In short, do B*witched infuse their Eurovision-weaned pop jigs with enough personality to make believers of us all?

To judge from this disappointing debut, we're about as likely to walk around saying "This party is so Keavy Lynch" or "You're acting way Sinéad O'Caroll" as America is to switch over to the metric system. Where each individual Spice clamored for the Mr. Microphone at a pajama party, these gals step up politely like students at a forensics meet, leaving too many spaces with nothing going on (the breaks in "Rev It Up" and "Rollercoaster" are among the most subliminal in pop-music history). "C'est La Vie" is the best schoolyard fuck-me song since Melanie's "Brand New Key," bringing blow jobs, peek-a-boo, and maybe even bisexuality and dildos under its double entendre standard. And though I wish I could be sure it was self-conscious, the Shocking Blue rip on "Freak Out" is lots of fun. But catchy as the rest of their fast ones may be, it's all too light and airy to guarantee immortality. As for the ballads, they're so characterless that Samantha wouldn't even wrinkle her nose at them (unless, of course, to make them disappear).

-- Kevin John