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Hot Fog: Secret Phantasies Of Dragon Sun

This is what metal would sound like now if Rob Halford liked vans more than motorcycles. Or maybe if those hippie sex cults from the early 70s liked Sabbath more than Jefferson Airplane or whatever shit they were listening to. I mean, it’s definitely got a ‘hill people’ vibe – hell, one of the tracks is even called Priest Of The Hillpeople – and you can tell this album would sound bitchin’ if you were wearing a ceremonial robe of some sort. But it also sorta sounds like the band Cheech and Chong would put together over a very stoned, very lost weekend in 1982. Anyway, Secret Phantasies Of Dragon Sun is a jammer, end to end, part hippie-metal mystical horseshit and part street-level denim demon riff rawk, with full-tilt axe-smashers like Sword Mountain and Tonight! (In The Night!), which celebrate and satirise big, dumb rock’n’roll all at once. Plus, you can dance to it. Everybody wins. (⁸⁄₁₀)

Bad Sellin’ Record: Just One Moment

These Austrian retro-rockers have such a boner for Appetite-era Guns that it doesn’t sound like they ever even heard another record in their entire lives. And their Axl is even wobblier and screechier than the real one. Given their name, it’d be more fun for me if I hated this, but it rocks in an awesomely stupid way. It’s like GN’R with mild brain damage. (⁶⁄₁₀)

Sins Of America: Demos For The Deranged

Once upon a time, Teenage Casket Company singer/Tigertailz guitarist Rob Wylde moved to the US and formed a glam band called Sins Of America. It didn’t work out. The end. As the name would suggest, Demos For The Deranged collects everything they did. It’s alright. Sounds like a bunch of dudes trying to remember what it sounded like when Bon Jovi were still cool. (⁵⁄₁₀)

Studfaust: Where The Underdogs Bark

Studfaust are littered with corpse-paint abusers from Norwegian bands like Emperor, Blood Tsunami and Old Funeral. That might not mean anything to you, but these satanic goons will be greeted as gods at the gates of Hell, that’s for sure. They sound like Motörhead, if Motörhead burned churches and occasionally stabbed each other in the brains. (⁷⁄₁₀)

Death Hymn Number 9: 3rd Degree Moon Burns

A two-man wrecking crew from LA who either dress like zombies or are actually rotting from the inside out – not sure which. Imagine a bomb made out of, like, live rats and razor blades exploding in your lap. Only louder. They have a song on here called I Reckon You Gonna Die. Believe me, you will reckon exactly that. Relentless. (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.