There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just rip it off like a band-aid. Arriving here at Steel Panther’s third record (or fourth, considering their twice-rebranded “self-titled” album), are fans enjoying this or enduring this? Steel Panther’s run their “comedy” glam metal needle past red, perhaps for good.
Steel Panther as teased-bouffant, leopard-printed and lipstick-smeared glam rockers are near faultless. Fret blitzes and nutcrunch blasts hit every sequinned target. You’re Beautiful When You Don’t Talk soars wildly with leads and breathy, smoky choruses. Party Like Tomorrow is the End of the World raises fists and spoonfuls of coke to noses, the boys helping themselves to large slices of Twisted Sister.
Gloryhole, an anthem beguiling a plywood wall to yield love on the other side, gallops gallantly. That is, before frontman Michael Starr breaks down into Meat Loaf tears, imploring loveless lads to “fill someone with goo at the gloryhole.” Tapping the same vein, Bukkake Tears runs slick with synth and squealing axe like a lost Def Leppard track. That is, if Def Leppard weren’t at all squeamish.
SP’s sexual in-your-endo style jokes are piled, piled and piled on. They teeter uncomfortably high in Gangbang at the Old Folks Home. After four albums, their comic rubber’s well and truly stretched past snapping. The Panther’s greatest strength was turning faint comedy tricks that messed with our minds, hitting like a fridge-light moment in between headbangs. Fucking My Heart in the Ass? That’s as subtle as it gets.
BY TOM VALCANIS
Best Track: Bukakke Tears
If You Like These, You’ll Love This: WARRANT, WHITESNAKE or W.A.S.P (and that’s just the Ws)
In A Word: Gutter-bound
