The complicated interplay and opposition of sex and love is a subject that's been explored extensively in pop music - sometimes explicitly, sometimes subconsciously. Jarvis Cocker made a career out of exploring the destructive and redemptive qualities that sex can inject into a relationship. In "She Fucks Me," Ween take what might otherwise be seen as a crass brag and transform it into a surprisingly touching story of a guy who's bewildered that a girl like that would want to be with a guy like him. To him, sex with her is like saying, "I love you."

Babes is a band that frequently crosses the wires of love and desire. Online, they don't have much of a presence, beyond vague websites and unoccupied Twitter pages. They have a hotline: (470) BABES-77. One gets the impression that you could call any time for intimate connections. The first thing I asked them over the phone was about their habit of almost exclusively writing love songs. Why love songs?

"We're horny!" they exclaimed.

Babes is comprised of a core group of three Los Angeles siblings - Aaron Leigh, Zach Leigh and Sarah Rayne Leigh - along with Jeff Baird and Bryan Harris. Back when Babes was known as FMLY, I first became familiar with their music when they were the house band on a podcast called This Feels Terrible - fittingly an emotionally raw show about the ups and downs of relationships, and all of the messy, silly stuff that goes along with being young, dumb, and in love.

"Sorry, let me clear that up," says Aaron, when pressed on the love issue. "We're really horny."

On their song, "ATMO," Babes sing about how much it sucks to still be physically attracted to an ex. This is a theme that runs through their music, of taking something that could be devastating and, without undermining it, clearly making an effort to keep things light. There's a hint of a classic country sway to their songs - an evocative sound that conjures up images of lonely saloons and even lonelier lovers. In their video for "Isn't It Love," Sarah Rayne slow dances and blows smoke rings with Mr. Show's John Ennis (who has aged in a remarkably dignified way, with silver hair and deep laugh lines), before bashing beer bottles against each other's heads. Isn't that love?

Recently, Babes joined up with Harvest Records, which also houses the diverse likes of Morrissey (oh he of the complicated love) and the completely psychotic Death Grips (not sure they've ever heard the word "love"). Babes occupy a unique area in indie pop, if not because of their preoccupation with giddy love. Their sound is classic, without merging into homage. Every steady dip into heart-on-sleeve pop is undercut by a very modern affectation. These are not young people confused by love, but rather young people conversant in the life of meeting and abandoning lovers.

Love and sex don't often exist separately, but they are separate but equal elements of a relationship. While sex can frequently exist in the absence of love, the opposite is a rarer thing - successfully, at least. Babes are right, in a way, to answer questions about love with a jubilant "We're horny!" The joyous affection of a romance's first blush is what defines Babes' music, even when they're singing about separations. The shadow of early love hangs above all that Babes create.

BABES, w/ Lures, MILK, 8 p.m., Thursday, March 27, The New Frontier Lounge, 301 E. 25th St., Tacoma, cover tba, 253.572.4020