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The Curse - Calcutta Sunrise album review

The best Sleaze you can get this month

Cover art The Curse - Calcutta Sunrise album

People sometimes forget, but like 20 years ago, Scandinavia saved rock’n’roll. I mean, it was pretty grim out there in 1999, an endless, numbing void of nu metal and pseudo-industrial pop and washed-out has-beens before the Hellacopters, Gluecifer and Turbonegro rode in on their longboats and straightened us all the fuck out.

The Curse follow in their fine ankle-booted footsteps with this effortlessly confident display of Swedish action rock, all snarls and switchblades and tight denim and sex-soaked rifforama.

Calcutta Sunrise is the band’s third album and it’s a total jammer from end to end. The beauty of The Curse is that they get how rock’n’roll works – every song’s got a hook and they get in and out in two minutes flat.

It’s all meat, no flab, and it ain’t pretty, either – every song is either about some dick they know (No Doubt About You, King Of Irritation) or some ruined party (City Of The Dead, Let’s Settle The Score). An instant classic.

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.