A higher echelon of has-beens assemble here to rock Ozzy tunes, replacing Ozzy’s trademark vocals with their own. Ditto with some well-respected axe-meisters.
Fraser harnesses images of horror to torture the men who deserve it. She thrusts rich cheats into Hell, with insects clicking their wings in their nostrils.
A little more touching Joan Jett balladry, but when they switch over to the “Do You Wanna Touch Me There” raunchy rock, that’s when my, um, ears perk up.