DANKO JONES – Rock And Roll Is Black And Blue

Danko Jones - Rock And Roll Is Black And BlueAlbum review: DANKO JONES – Rock And Roll Is Black And Blue


THIS reviewer first saw Danko Jones opening for Hardcore Superstar in Manchester a decade ago. It was spellbinding, this swaggering braggart sweating all over the first 10 rows as he tore through impossibly catchy tales of road life.

It was like Robert Johnson on crack, the frontman an updated version of the travelling bluesmen who’ve been breaking instruments and hearts for around a century.

That night, Hardcore Superstar were reduced to Softcore Extras.

But the output of the three piece, completed by bassist John ‘JC’ Calabrese and drummer Atom Willard has since been … not patchy, but nonetheless a little disappointing in comparison to the world-beating potential they had at the beginning.

Like many straight-ahead rock bands, Danko Jones have failed to do justice to their visceral live show when they’ve walked through the studio doors. If you think this is a really good band on tape, wait til you see them live.

This is Danko Jones’ sixth album and, realistically, they’ve released two and a half records worth of killer material in that time. I’d throw in “Full Of Regret”, “Lover Call”, “First Dates”, “Mango Kid”, “Cadillac”, “Rock Shit Hot”, “Woman Bound”, “Kids Don’t’ Wanna Rock”, “Code Of The Road”, “Sticky Situation”, “She’s The Drugs”, “Home To Hell”. “Play The Blues”, “Sound Of Love”, “Take Me Home”, “The Finger”, “Invisible”, “Forget My Name”, “I Love Living In The City”, “I Want You”, “Strut” and a few others.

These fit three categories: great rockers, novelty songs, and both.

What’s left over is garage rock ditties that meld into one, without the hooks that make the songs above so memorable.

So, how many of the tracks on Rock And Roll Is Black and Blue (great colours by the way) would make the Danko Jones mega-album?

“Get Up” hops along nicely, bringing back the brag to Danko’s persona, so it’s in. “Legs” (you don’t need me to explain what that’s about, do you?) is an riff-heavy anthem in the “First Date” vain. It’s in too.

“Just A Beautiful Day” soars, with a poppy chorus and spitting vocal delivery. Definitely in.

“Always Away” is reminiscent of Black Stone Cherry’s “In My Blood” in subject matter – being always on the move – and strikes a chord with this reviewer so it passes the litmus test too.

And ‘I Believed In God’ has the novelty value to avoid being quickly forgotten.

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LA GUNS – Hollywood Forever

Album review: LA Guns – Hollywood Forever


THERE are no hard and fast rules for an eighties hair metal band aiming to eke out a living this decade.

Some, like Motley Crue, have studiously avoided the nostalgia circuit and aligned themselves with young bands. Others, like Whitesnake and Def Leppard, have their pre-Sunset Strip heritage as English blues and metal (respectively)  bands to fall back on.

There are those like Tyketto and Junkyard who have day jobs and tour in their vacation time. But for the likes of Ratt, Queensryche, Slaughter and LA Guns, it’s a fulltime job that now involves keeping their support base’s  attention, one fan at a time, via social media and the speciallist press which has been chased out of the physical realm and onto the internet.

As many readers will be aware, until recently there were two LA Guns, one headed by Phil Lewis – the singer from the band’s late eighties heyday – and the other by founder Tracii Guns. To the relief of confused punters everywhere, Tracii’s version is apparently now on ice indefinitely.

Hollywood Forever is from Lewis’ version and it’s a timely reminder that this genre is still turning out quality material – even though the mainstream has long since moved on. If you liked the new Van Halen album, dig a bit deeper to the likes of LA Guns and you won’t be disappointed.

The biggest compliment you can pay a band from the big haired eighties (Motley Crue might consider it an insult) is that the album sounds like the last twenty years never happened. That is certainly the case here – Phil Lewis is probably the number one torch-barer, anywhere,  for the Strip scene of the eighties and Hollywood Forever would have been a massive album back then.

Its biggest strength is its diversity. “Hollywood Forever”chops along metallically at at a cracking pace, “Eel Pie” is a sleazy grinder and “Sweet Mystery” is a dreamy radio ballad – and that’s just the first three tracks.

“Burn” is the sort of glammy blues lament meant to blast from convertables back when the riots were the number one topic of conversation in Lala Land and the “Vine Street Shimmy”  is the sort of song that makes you visualise the video clip (all low-slung guitars and sneers) even though there actually isn’t one.

My favourites are “Dirty Black Night”, a monster of a chugga-chugga glam rock epic that dares you to listen passively without the slightest nod or smile, and “You Better Not Love Me” which is a perfect example of the commercial LA metal genre.

People thought these eighties metal bands recorded catchy songs to get on the radio and please the record company execs. Maybe they even used this excuse themselves as an alibi for “wimping out”. But the radio and the execs are long gone – and the hooks keep coming because that’s actually the sort of music these guys like.

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Album review: DISNEYLAND AFTER DARK – Dic.Nii.Lan.Daft.Erd.Ark


MOST of us have lists in our heads of “most under-rated bands”. D:A:D – Disneyland After Dark – are at the very top of mine.

I interviewed the Danes back in 1989 when they visited Australia on a promotional tour for No Fuel Left For The Pilgrims, their big American ‘breakthrough’ album. In fact, the breakthrough was extremely modest, although “Sleeping My Day Away” still gets airplay on specialist stations in the US like Sirius XM’s Hair Nation.

Like a lot of acts who have “escaped” international recognition but flourished in rich local soil – witness Powerfinger, for instance – and these lads’ artistic and creative evolution has not been sullied by the demands of suits from London or LA.. They had enough success to encourage, not enough to ruin. D:A:D craft hard rock songs that are musically almost perfect and lyrics that boast a sardonic wit that should embarrasses those of us who claim English as a first language.

Is there a better summation of this social media-obsessed world than “Winning hearts and turning heads/A simple beast that must be fed” at the start of “Breaking Them Heart By Heart”?
D:A:D are not allowed to call themselves Disneyland After Dark due to the threat of a legal suit by Disneyland itself in the late 1980s so this album title is a cheeky way around that. Dic.Nii.Lan.Daft.Erd.Ark is actually a little less even than its predecessor, Monster Philosophy, and would have perhaps been enhanced by losing a track or two. But when the Binzer brothers (singer Jesper and guitar whiz Jacob), bassist Stig Pederson and drummer Laust Sonne hit the mark, they do so spectacularly.

“A New Age Moving In” opens this platter with impressive bluster, Pederson’s two-string bass to the fore and “I Want What She Got” is a classy, brothel-creeping opening single. It’s the guitar fills that give D;A:D a wide-screen feel, something that few bands today manage aside from perhaps Foo Fighters and Metallica at their dramatic best.

“The End” is reminiscent of their heaviest, most discordant offering, 1995’s Helpyourselfish – but it still has an instantly memorable chorus.

Things go up a notch with the perfect hard rock of “Fast On Wheels”. D:A:D once wrote a song with the diametrically opposite viewpoint: “The Road Below Me”. That was about moving, this is about discovering the charms of stopping. And it’s utterly engaging, with the sort of playing we often associate with “alternative” rock and perfectly executed vocal melodies.

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DOKKEN – Back For The Attack

Album review: DOKKEN – Back For The Attack 

A LOT of people thought Dokken would end up as big as Bon Jovi: their last LP  Under Lock And Key had tinges of greatness, but the general attitude was that they’d become a big band if only they’d quieten down guitarist George Lynch a bit.
To their credit, Dokken have gone in a diametrically opposite direction to everybody else with Back For The Attack. Rather than chase pop commerciality, the LP is longer (63 bloody minutes!) heavier and louder.. . and better than anything else they’ve done. George Lynch shines like a beacon throughout.

In the past Dokken records have showcased Don Dokken’s soaring voice. But from the opening riffs of “Kiss Of Death” to the finale chill of “Dreams Warriors”, Lynch dominates with a style that is original and diverse. It’s his first claim to be classed in the same guitar hero category as Eddie Van Halen or Yngwie Malmsteen.
At first listen, the songs sound the same. I don’t know why that’s so, because the songwriting is just as strong. There is no “Jaded Heart” or “Alone Again” but the passion of those songs is preserved. An essential buy for those who value quality unpretentious hard rock.

Filed for: JUKE MAGAZINE  Appeared January 2, 1988



NO matter the PR spin, this is step back for Slash from his eponymous all-star solo album of 2010. The iconic former GN’R axeman has returned to a band environment, with Alter Bridge singer Myles Kennedy getting second billing, drummer Brent Fitz and bassist Todd Kearns providing back-up.

The result is an album best compared to the two Slash’s Snakepit releases. It’s clear from all three albums what the top-hatted one brought to Guns N’Roses – a no-nonsense hard rock attack in comparison to Axl Rose’s  epic melodrama, still evident on Chinese Democracy.

Both Apocalyptic Love and Chinese Democracy are unsatisfying for the same reason – they are estranged halves of something truly great.

In case that sounds like the musings of another miserable GN’R reunionist, here’s another reason why this reviewer sees Apocalyptic Love as Slash’s weakest album since leaving the Gunners.

While his cohorts in Slash’s Snakepit were unabashedly influenced by eighties hair metal, Kennedy’s involvement nudges this platter in the direction of modern rock – making it further removed from what we all loved about Slash in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong: if you love Alter Bridge you’ll like this. I don’t like Alter Bridge. At all.

I can understand how the soaring choruses and tightly-wound riffs push the buttons of their fans – but the buttons Desmond Child once played like a piano (mine) are impervious to their 21st century emo siren’s call.

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MOTLEY CRUE, Mets Center Minneapolis, 1990

Mets Centre, Minneapolis

March 6, 1990

“WE GOT a f**king loud bunch of motherf**kers here tonight,” bleach blond Hollywood nightclub proprietor-cum-rock star Taime Downe yells across the vast expanse of this 16,000 seat mid-western arena.
There you basically have Faster Pussycat’s stage show. A guy who could well be your local garbage man squeezed into embarrassingly tight black spandex, a couple of scarves and make-up that do little to disguise his over-eagerness, saying f**k into a microphone and taking a step back to bask in the response. That and ‘Where There’s A Whip There’s A Way” and the teeny-cuteness level of ‘House Of Pain’.
Aside from that, the most poignant, relevant and symbolic Faster Pussycat song is ‘Don’t Change That Song’. They don’t. The whole 45 minute set sounds like a whining groan.
But this crowd, whose parents are probably already waiting In the foyer, are impressed by the word f**k. Every time Motley’s Vince Neil says the magic word, the kids throw their fists in the air and cheer.

Motley Crue are a Pop Metal band with a yearning for immortality. That still means catwalks and pyro and lasers, but no make-up, leather, T-shirts and dark colours on their mammoth stage set.
A demonic face appears on a suspended screen hanging over roughly the 15th row and mumbles something about ‘Shout At The Devil’, then ‘Theatre Of Pain’, ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ and ‘Dr Feelgood’.
The Nasty Habits’ ample silhouettes appear on top of the catwalks, the lights go up. Tommy Lee is visible behind his drumkit and Neil, Nikki Sixx and Mick Mars are fired upwards by hydraulic lifts from under the stage. Neil snaps his fingers downwards as ‘Kickstart My Heart’, a Motley classic, revs up. He runs from side to side, puts his hands up in the air and the horde cheers.
I love arena rock. I love the euphoria and escapism. Intimacy is for intimate music. Motley Crue’s music is tailor-made for arenas. Even the primitive ‘Live Wire’ runs on seamlessly from the band’s more slickly- produced recent material.

Party song after party song whistles past you as the Crüe roll out the bubblegum faves. ‘Sticky Sweet’, ‘Smokin’ In The Boys Room’, ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’… Neil tells everyone how much he lurves Minneapolis. Sixx leans back and glares, Lee sticks his elbows out as wide as possible and smiles amidst the mayhem he creates. Meanwhile Mick Mars is just in the corner playing guitar and making it all sound like music. That’s all.

Mars plays a very competent bluesy solo, his guitar collection suspended horizontally on a rack in front of him. Soon after, Lee’s kit quivers and is lifted clear to the ceiling while he begins playing to sample tapes of the likes of AC/DC and Cream. The kit floats out on into the audience and lowers frighteningly close to their collective heads.
Lee, wearing a studded G-string and absolutely nothing else, puts one hand on a pole and leans out over the audience. He looks genuinely in awe of his situation, oblivious to the tact he does this every night.

He straps himself back in and keeps drumming.
This is supposedly ‘the greatest rock ‘n’ roll show that’s ever been seen’. It Is indeed impressive. But the highlight for me is in the encore, that definitive hymn of decadence, ‘Wild Side’. ‘Namedropping no-names, glamorize cocaine, puppets with strings of gold.’ Neil is singing it, looking straight out into the darkness, not looking down at the front row. Motley Crue are no longer on the Wild Side, they no longer glamorize cocaine… and whether or not they are puppets with strings of gold is open to interpretation. Neil is singing a stirring song, the pyro is ready, the staging is perfect, I love the music.
So why am I not moved? Why does Neil not even seem to be in the same country as me? Why do I think listening to the Crue on my Walkman would be more enjoyable?
Perhaps because it’s all too much for my finite senses.
Perhaps because I sense that, underneath everything, there isn’t very much at all.


Filed for: KERRANG!


‘Goin’ To Pieces’
(Mushroom Advance Tape
TAKE THE strengths of Junkyard, Royal Court Of China, Rock City Angels and a smidgeon of the Georgia Satellites, subtract hyped-up, image-conscious US record company demands, and youhave Nick Barker, the latest no-nonsense snarler from Down Under. 

LA raw rock connoisseur and knob twiddler Jim Faraci has ripped off the Reptiles’ lightweight pop skin to expose a truly
prehistoric-sounding ripsnorter for this gleaming new Aussie outfit.
Hot on the heals of Johnny Diesel And The Injectors, the antipodean ass-kicking conveyor belt has run off yet another brilliantly unaffected and irresistible product. Melbournian Nick doesn’t just bark, he bites long and hard on this debut with country-influenced harmonica-laced honesty.

Try imagining Stevie Tyler blowin’ into the harmonica over the top of AC/DC axes with Dan Baird (but better) singin’, and you’ll have but a sketchy picture of the title song. And there’s heaps more….
Try ‘Hell Hole’ for grinding coolness, the laid-back ballad “All Or Nothing’ and the fierce ‘Resurrection Time’. First Aussie single ‘Another Me’, a disgraceful example of inner-city popdom when first released, has been done over well and good by Faraci, but despite the newly introduced reverb and step up in sonic acrobatics, it’s stil out of touch with a strikingly bar room-based slab of plastic.

The first fair dinkum  mean-soundin’ outfit from the colonies since Rose Tattoo? Betcha life they are!

DE MONT – Body Language

‘Body Language’
(Giant 465270 import)
DE MONT have been around for a grand total of three years — two on New South Wales’ Central Coast and one in Sydney. What they try to do on this 10-track platter is admirable: what they succeed at doing is sporadic and often
The first single, ‘I Want Your Body’, is a case in point. Live, it’s a dynamo of sleek melody lines, commercially cranking guitars and pertectly meshed Leppardesque keyboards. On vinyl, it’s limp in the most impotent of senses. There’s a promising heavy breathing, neat riffing intro, but the keyboard is far too prevalent.

It’s almost as though they had to give the keyboard player something to do…
While the execution is below par, De Mont have a future because of a lead man Craig Morrison’s charisma and vocal versatility. And with ‘I Want Your Body’, ‘So Easy’, ‘Strange World’ and — marginally — ‘Sex Attention’, De Mont show some useful AOR songwriting promise for the future. The other songs are underdeveloped, but at least show a useful penchant for chantable pop rock.
The reason for such a production cop-out? Simple, they want to be Def Leppard, and unless you’ve got a few million pounds to spare it’s pretty hard to attain the a ‘Hysteria’ quality, even if you have the songs. Which De Mont don’t.

And the first few seconds of ‘Move On You’ are enough to confirm that the first wave of ‘Hysteria’ clones is here. It’s an absolute carbon copy of the ‘Rocket’/’Gods Of War’ intros with the SPFX and muffled voices.
But there are some nice ideas in here. What they need is a couple of years to tighten up and realise that wimping out does not at.ornatically equal American dollarAt least, for the sake of De Mont’s music, I hope it doesn’t. STEVE MASCORD

Filed for: KERRANG!