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.
