"I'm only getting uglier every day! My hairline is receding every day! So that's gone," he says.

But the music of his Newport Beach, Calif., band means the world to him. That's where he draws the line.

"The songs survive, and that's all I ever hoped. It's not surprising you hear the radio and they play 'Fly.' That's a truly amazing thing to be a part of."

Sugar Ray is on tour and preparing for a July release of a new album, "Music for Cougars."

Playing soft pop is a million miles away from where Sugar Ray started -- as a hard-core act, touring with the loud likes of Korn and the Deftones.

"We knew, like, three chords. We were into Slayer and the (Sex) Pistols, and all that (expletive). And our drummer brought home the Beatles one day, and we said, 'How do we play a minor chord?' The next thing you know, we came up with 'Fly.' "

Sugar Ray sold poorly as a hard-core band. They sold huge thanks to "Fly."

"So we said, 'Let's explore this sort of mellow songwriting more,' " McGrath says.

At the time, in 1997, people like me -- music critics -- were weirded out that "Fly" was a sugarpop, reggae, hip-hoppy bonus song that followed a bundle of screamy hard-core songs on Sugar Ray's album "Floored."

McGrath understands why there was backlash. But the band did dig the Beach Boys as much as they dug Slayer "and everything in between," he says.

Besides: "We never sold in, so it's hard to sell out. We were never the coolest guys in the room, but certainly the luckiest -- certainly had the most fun.

"But those hard-core guys -- the 30 of them that liked Sugar Ray? It was easy to trade them for the 3 million that bought 'Floored.' "

See? How can you not like McGrath's honesty?

He says his band doesn't get along perfectly, but that's life.

"We've never got along. It's the only way a band can get along: We're like brothers at this point. There are so many dysfunctional aspects going on: 'I can't talk to this guy about this.' 'And 15 years ago, this guy banged his girlfriend.'

"It's all these weird things going on that you don't discuss -- but you do the most intimate things with. It's a bizarre carnival of insanity you go through. We've been a band for 21 years, and it's the same dudes. That's the biggest accomplishment we've had. That's the most difficult thing to achieve.

"I'd do anything for these guys. But at times I go, 'I can't stand this mother.' "

Guys in the band fight over the same thing all bands fight over: creative differences, aka writing a song.

"If one guy says he doesn't like it -- how can you not be mad at that dude? You think it's 'Sweet Child O' Mine,' and this guy thinks it's 'Angel of Mine.' It's really difficult going through the machinations of making a record."

Going forward, McGrath hopes people give Sugar Ray another chance.

"Hopefully, we can just come back with a song, and people will be like, 'Oh it's these douche bags again. You know what? We'll let 'em in. We had fun with these guys before.' "

And he hopes people's emotions are branded by having associated a life event around a Sugar Ray hit.

"I had a life event around Kajagoogoo, and I'll never forget that. I think (their song) 'Too Shy' is the first time I ever got a chick's boobies, and that was kind of rad, and I'll always think of that."

And maybe the band could finally sell a decent amount of merchandise, he says.

"You don't see a lot of Sugar Ray shirts running around town. Even at the peak of Sugar Ray, people were ashamed to admit they liked the band. We were never the merch kings. We're never gonna give Metallica, Korn or Blink-182 a run for their merch."

I suggest to McGrath that since so many women still find him sexy, maybe he could sell an anatomically correct blowup doll of himself. He doesn't miss a beat, putting that idea and himself down at once.

"It would have to have a sticker on it that says, 'Things in the mirror appear larger than they are.' "

Contact Doug Elfman at 702-383-0391 or e-mail him at delfman@reviewjournal.com. He also blogs at reviewjournal.com/elfman.