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The Hip Priests: Full-Tilt Bullshit

You know, every time I stroke my greying, Danny Glover-ish beard and mutter to myself that I may, indeed, be getting “too old for this shit”, some gang of holy fools send me a nugget of top-shelf rock’n’roll my way and drag me right back into the fray. Like this lot. The sherriffs of Snottingham return with another two-fisted helping of garage-splintering sleazeball riffola. Like any self-respecting crew of guitar-wrangling outlaw scuzzballs, the Priests balance their shambolic racket with a nudge-nudge sense of humour, as displayed in the opener, a shameless Dead Boys pastiche titled, sensibly enough, Sonic Reproducer. Elsewhere there’s bloody-knuckled odes to booze (Baptized In Booze, Dressed Up Messed Up), sex (Outta My Head Into Your Pants, Terminal Lust), and, um, stuff you generally do alone in darkened rooms (Wrist Action). It’s all big, dumb fun, musically sandwiched between ‘77 and whenever that one awesome Backyard Babies record came out. Righteous. (⁸⁄₁₀)

Heartless Devils: El Diablo Sin Corazon

Rock’n’roll lifer Scott Bitner’s been at it since the late 80s when his glam-punk riot squad Mr. Nasty was terrorising NYC. Flash-forward 25 or so years and almost as many bands later and Bitner returns with this clutch of hook-heavy hard rock charmers that sound like Billy Idol teaching the Ramones how to write all-summer FM radio hits. (⁸⁄₁₀)

Legal Fingers: No Time For Tenderness

Legal Fingers are from Dubuque, Iowa, and therefore could not care less about how cool you think they are, because it’s still 1976 in Dubuque and they’re getting along just fine with pinball machines, Afros and Grand Funk albums. This record is the perfect soundtrack for losing your virginity in the woods and/or growing a moustache in the eighth grade, whichever comes first. (⁶⁄₁₀)

Biggie Stardust And The Wretched Hive: Bad Excuse For Bad Manners

Awesomely snotty backyard chug-punk played with druggy abandon, but with an ear for hooks. It’s like a jukebox programmed by Leatherface. Partying with these guys must be terrifying. (⁶⁄₁₀)

Black Space Riders: Light Is The New Black

Last outing, these German blastronauts took a Zodiac Mindwarp-esque Stone-Age pummeling and shot it into space. This time they present us with an altogether more sophisticated vision of Kosmic Rock. Bleary-eyed biker sludge merges seamlessly with hypnotic swirls of ambient space-streaking, like an Iggy-fronted Hawkwind. Seriously far out. (⁷⁄₁₀)

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.