A big, stoned, Sunday afternoon of an album which inserts an eggbeater into the brains of the blues, cranks the handle, and serves it with a side of ‘shrooms.
A little gentleness can be pleasant, but too much of it can be lethal. James Iha’s new solo release unfortunately falls on the side of severe feline damage.
It’s scary to actually recommend songs off this album, but the Spanish guitar-driven “Viva Forever” is as good as any other pop ballad torturing the airwaves.
An enthralling, harrowing experience, denying the simplified roles women in music have backed themselves into, speaking for one rather than pandering to all.