Like a guy with a three-day beard and beer gut wearing a stained wifebeater in line outside a ritzy dance club, it’s hard to know what to make of Raw Dog, but there’s a strong smell, anyway: Veering wildly as though Vince Neil were behind the wheel, Raw Dog explores ambient electronica, spoken-word moments, noisy post-punk churn and ball-scratching acoustic guitar humor. While its examples of the first two styles are eminently passable and forgettable, that can’t be said of the “satirical” songs, which are as polarizing as Adam Sandler or Beavis & Butthead. More puerile than scathing, these tracks offer odes to a meth-cooking drug addict living in a dumpster (“behind Wal-Mart, gotta hold my nose ’cause I’m gonna fart”), proudly ignorant, trailer-dwelling white trash (“Captain Belligerent”), and a recent dumpee who leaves a brown present on his ex’s sheets, then unwinds with a joint and some acid. There’s a certain trashy allure, if you’re willing to connect with your inner juvenile. But, while one applauds Raw Dog’s willingness to experiment, there’s something to be said for editing and restraint.