Think Rock. Mix it with some roll. Add a drop of sleaze, and a whole heap of tongue in cheek humour. Shove in a pot, and leave to simmer on a medium heat for about, oh, 35 minutes and what you’ll get, dear reader – is this.


The Evil Powers of Rock n Roll, a classic yet overlooked album of genuine style.

Yes, it’s only 35 minutes. No, you’ll probably never have heard of Supersuckers main man Eddie Spaghetti. None of that matters, for this is one of the finest rock records ever committed to the Shiny Disc of Compactness.

Opening with the aural attack of the title track, we have the tone set – just over three minutes of guitar rifferry with the volume turned up to 11. Best part for me is the fake fade out ending that morphs into a sprawling blues turn that the Queens of the Stone Age would be proud of.

The Queens of the Stone Age comparison is an obvious one, not just because of the sleaze rock kinda vibe going on, but for the fact that a lot of this album sounds like it was written about or under the influence of various illicit substances.

Take ‘I Want The Drugs’, an ode to a long lost love who died in a horrible car accident. Actually, it’s a song about drugs, and is introduced by the band being asked if their songs are about “Liquor, women, drugs and killing for the most part” – they answer with a simple “Yup” and get on with the tune. Gotta love that honesty.

Track 5 is the highlight of the disc for me. ‘Dead Meat’ is about wrestling. Seriously. Otherwise, explain lyrics like

Dead meat beatin’ on you with his big bare knuckles, gonna drop your body off the top turnbuckle, Dead meat gonna put you in a pile drive ’cause he ain’t afraid to get disqualified

This is obviously a cynical and dirty ploy to try and get the track adopted by Vince McMahon’s Pro Wrasslin’ Circus, the WWE. It’s shame it never worked.

They never shift gears – each track is as demented and as chaotic as the last one. For every ‘Dead Meat’, there’s a ‘Goin’ Back to Tuscon’, for every ‘Santa Rita High’, there’s a ‘Fisticuffs’ – the ultimate fight song, never mind that Marilyn Manson crap.

Seriously, there is no weak link on the album, no track that’s just been thrown in to fill time – arguably every track on this record is a mini masterpiece, and each one has a riff that Green Day would kill to steal from The Clash.

Personally, I throw this on and I don’t care what else is happening in my life – for that 35 minutes, all is right with the world and all is peaceful. Except for the relentless crunching of guitars, natch. Do yourself a favour and check out this genius record.

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