Girls on F Street resembles a Dark Brothers production in two important respects: post-punk makeup and costume design, and fast, high-energy, almost non­stop sex. F Street moves so fast it's over almost before you know it, which is to say it's not the least bit boring, but the plot is thin.

Jerry Butler is a keyboard player who hangs out in a cluttered mess of a room with three women who are either groupies or members of his band. A holy man has shown him a synthesizer riff that, when played merely once, will cause instant fornication frenzy for any and all listeners. Needless to say, he plays the riff pretty often. That's it for the story. The little dialog there is, however, is uniformly delivered in a spirited, bawdy, comic style that's quite entertaining.

The excellent pacing is abetted by good camera angles and editing, and a raw energy to the sex scenes that, for a change, doesn't give you the feeling you're watching a "Popular Mechanics" How to Get Your Rocks Off video. Amber Lynn looks great, but gets only one sex scene. When Buddy Love and Angel Kelly get physical on the floor, it looks like a tryout for the Olympics. Patti Petite steals the show with some very vigorous head gaming on Jerry Butler, and Sharon Mitchell proves yet again that the mirror on the wall will get you off the best of all.

The lively jazz/rock soundtrack is entirely based on the magic riff, and it's the kind of hook you'll be humming after the tape is over. Just don't try singing it in a crowded elevator.