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Scorpion Vs. Tarantula: Claim To Fame

I dunno why – probably because of the collapse of the music industry, or maybe it’s just the dawn of a new collective age – but there’s been entirely too much co-operation in rock’n’roll lately. Too many split records, too many shared tour vans, too much cloying neo-60s tribalism. Well, that’s not what Arizona’s Scorpion Vs. Tarantula are all about. If you share a stage with these sun-fried party-enders, rest assured that they will kill you and eat you and wear your husk as armour. Everything about their sound and vision suggests a ceaseless, fearless search-and-destroy mission. Led by tribal-painted Amazon warrior L Hotshot, Scorpion Vs. Tarantula are like Joan Jett fronting AC/DC, only Joan’s blood is acid and AC/DC are werewolves. There’s no doubt that Watching You Watching Me Watching You Go is the jukebox hit here – it’s a highly combustible rock’n’soul headbanger. However, the whole album threatens to melt your speakers, and maybe your head, too. Utterly ruthless. (⁸⁄₁₀)

**The Black Marquee: Sessions From The Hive Vol 1 **

The thing with 1988 is that it ended too soon. But if you’re nostalgic for dangling earrings and the days when sleazy, dark-glam bands like The Throbs, Love/Hate and Sea Hags ruled the rock’n’roll wasteland, then rejoice and feast freely on The Black Marquee. Back-alley love affairs, warm nights with hard drugs, and scarves covering everything. Amen. (⁷⁄₁₀)

Switchblade Cheetah: Trash Suckin’ High Heeled Scum

Clearly under the influence of cocaine and Satan, this duo from the swamps of Florida crank out a headache-making occult-themed racket that veers between sub-Motörhead thrash and back-porch guitar pluckin’ country-folk, with a dash of Beatles-esque pop melody thrown in. This is probably what the inside of Roky Erickson’s head sounds like all the time. (⁵⁄₁₀)

Planet of Zeus: Vigilante

These Greek dope’n’rollers are so massive in scope, they could pull off sauntering around town in wizard cloaks, and after soaking in their highly potent fusion of dusty Sabbath riffs and early-70s cosmic funk, you will too. Also, I think the whole album is basically recruitment propaganda for a sinister cult. You should join. I bet it’s filled with hot stoner chicks. (⁷⁄₁₀)

Suzi Trash: Sleep Through This

From parts unknown (actually Arkansas/Missouri, but who’d want to admit that?), Suzi Trash are a gang of snarly dead-enders who play belligerent basement-punk that’s effortlessly catchy, mean-spirited and perfectly obnoxious. Rarely have the simple pleasures of being young and useless been so vividly portrayed in under 90 seconds a pop. (⁶⁄₁₀)

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.