Trumpeted as ‘a loving homage to every cock rock album that came before it’ while dismissing Def Leppard as ‘pussies’, Sydney’s Hotcakes struggle to bust down the door with a raging stiffie but forget to wash off the comedy face, their smoothly polished procession of 80s poodle clichés falling flat with unintentional hilarity.
Opening double-header Rockin’ In The Afternoon (!) and Cut To The Chase (Naked Ladies) lead the bad-boy-by-numbers chest-beating of clumsily titled stadium squeakers, interrupted by obligatory ‘sensitive’ outing If Only These Arms Could Hold You, begging the listener to raise a lighter rather than a lob-on.
With the trouser-centric boasts, this sadly desperate relic can only be awarded the ‘Pants’ rating – even mighty Joe Elliott’s old ones after a world tour would be preferable.
