The best one could hope for in a band fronted by Sammy Hagar is slick, radio-ready mediocrity, but this odd supergroup exists on another, deeper level of bad.
The story of Runaways lead singer Cherie Currie, and in a broader context, the story of the sleazy reality of the music industry in the mid-to-late ’70s.
The weirdest band I’ve liked in awhile, and also one of the most unique. Nicole Barille has the sexiest, otherworldly, Betty Boop cartoon voice imaginable.
It won’t be long before they’re gobbled up by a label, conglomerate, somebody. They rip through these five songs so fast, you’re shocked when they’re through.
A Minnesota trio who weave dense, atmospheric guitars into thick slabs of sound. On Drift, a four-song EP, the band isn’t shy about pushing the volume.
Heavy on the big guitar riffs like his work with Ozzy. Wylde often relies too much on his distorted vocal tricks, but the disc is a fine primer for the curious.
Wisely avoiding being simply a rundown of high scores, the creators divide into logical categories and bundle together facts in bright, inviting layouts.