Scorpion Child: Acid Roulette

Texas band deliver a second helping of vintage hard stuff.

Scorpion Child Acid Roulette album cover

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Lone Star state longhairs Scorpion Child return with a wicked uppercut of a second album. Befitting a band so joyfully mired in the golden-god era of hard rock, it’s a concept record about an acid-gobbling, falsely imprisoned nutter slowly unravelling in his cell. If that sounds heavy, wait until you hear the 12-ton Lizzy-meets-Maiden riffage, man.

The beauty of Acid Roulette – and about Scorpion Child in general – is the steely dedication to all that is rock. You don’t sound like this unless you’ve been swimming in a sea of ancient vinyl your whole life.

That’s the only real criticism you can lay at Scorpion Child’s feet, that they’re too on-the- nose. And it’s true. There’s no stone unturned here as far as 70s big-balls rock’n’roll goes, but we’re not gonna fault a band for delivering the goods, even if the goods have been delivered before by Rob Halford or Angus Young or Uriah Heep.

Fact of the matter is, this is one of the most unapologetic rock records we’ve heard in a decade. File it proudly between Argus and Sonic Temple.


Came from the sky like a 747. Classic Rock’s least-reputable byline-grabber since 2003. Several decades deep into the music industry. Got fired from an early incarnation of Anal C**t after one show. 30 years later, got fired from the New York Times after one week. Likes rock and hates everything else. Still believes in Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction, against all better judgment.