A sad record. Not in a boo-hoo way, it’s more of a hands-in-pockets, head down, kick the can as the weight of existence slows your movement kind of way.
Garage punk has meant different things over the years. There are plenty of mall punk teens who don’t know who the Dead Boys were and think Iggy Pop is an actor.
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.
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.
Greek Gothic veterans team up to make a dark, catchy debut similar to the Gothic punk bands in the UK in the late ’70s and ’80s: The Damned, Bauhaus, etc.
Since Juliette Lewis stepped onto the music stage, I’ve been waiting for her to yell “Gotcha!” It feels like a Saturday Night Live skit about a “rocker” chick.